This Weekend Only!

It's that time of year again....the beginning of summer vacation and my favorite of people watching events.....garage sale season!

I'm sure many of you have seen the signs popping up all over town....neighbors awakening from their winter cocoons and suddenly cleaning out garages, or large piles of broken chairs, disheveled looking Christmas decorations, and TVs circa 1980 mysteriously being stacked up by the curb on bulk pick-up day.

If you live in the suburbs, like me, I'm sure many of you have the same love-hate relationships with garage sale season.  For those supporters who argue "you can find great deals," I hear you, but for me, I find the overall event a baffling concept for many reasons.

And before I proceed, let me first say that I have held two garage sales in my life.  Although I found it to be lucrative, it was a beyond exhausting and experience like no other I've had.  Seriously, people argued with me over 25 cents.....twenty-five cents! Having gone through this, I now feel that conducting a garage sale should be an event all engaged couples should be required to participate in prior to marriage as part of a premarital counseling class.  OMG is all I'm going to say!

Now where was I?  Oh yes....living in "The Bubble", as I so affectionately refer to it, we are never at a shortage for these events.  And in "The Bubble", we do it big!  Forget just the simple garage sale, oh we have those.....but we also have Neighborhood Sales.  Look out!  The concept here is that if one person clogging the streets with carload upon carload of people wanting to dig through all their crap lining their drive-way is enticing, then an entire neighborhood simultaneously lining the streets with all their crap is Nirvana!

You'll always know one is coming, by the way, because each neighborhood, when built, apparently came with it's on "NEIGHBORHOOD GARAGE SALE THIS WEEKEND ONLY" banner.....I said yes banner. These banners serve as a beacons to all Saturday morning garage sale enthusiasts.

The reason I find this so peculiar is that it isn't an annual event that happens "this weekend only". I could understand that, but after three years of "Bubble dwelling", I'm noticing the same neighborhoods have four or five of these events a year. You have to kind of wonder about these neighborhoods, don't you?  I mean, what kind of folks do we have living here that could possible have enough junk to create a lucrative garage sale four or five times a year?  Seriously, I think if I were a casting agent for the show "Hoarders" I'd be staking out these neighborhoods because clearly, there is gold in this here Bubble!

So as this season begins let me dust off my lawn chair and get a good seat out front to watch and raise my cup to offer a toast of congratulations to my neighboring subdivisions.  Congratulations on providing me with hours of people watching astonishment and entertainment.  And congratulations for having the ability to absolutely block major streets with your semi-monthly parade of drive-way lining crap that manages to turn my beloved Bubble of sugar-coated happiness and solitude into a Walmart for "this weekend only!"

Shorts and Swimsuits.....GASP!

As May officially begins, so does the annual "preparation for swimsuit season."  I've noticed that weight loss does have seasons - there is the preparation for the holidays season, the post holiday season, the back-to-school season (which still cracks me up that at 41 that they are still marketing to me with this one...ha) and my personal nemesis, swimsuit season.

So to pay homage to the annual approach of shorts, swimsuits, tank-tops and all things flattering to mommies everywhere, I thought I'd take a look at a few sites full of goodness and support for all of us during this, our seasonal time of need.

Fact Finding

First things first, what are the facts about what you should eat, how often should you eat and where do you find ideas for new recipes (seriously, and I say this as a non-meat eater, a girl can only eat so much salad, right)?  Here are a few sites that I love for help with all of the above:

• Dietdiva.com - Great articles and recipe ideas.  Love this site!
• Allrecipes.com - Food, food and more food ideas....nuf said
• Eatinghealth.org - Quick reads, fun new ideas

Get By With a Little Help

Now I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a big group exercise kind of girl, but I have been giving the boot camp workout idea a consideration lately (jury is still out).  BUT I do believe there is something to giving and receiving support, so here are some great site for just that offering:

• Weight-lossfitness.com - Full of regular peeps sharing ideas and support
• Myfitnesspal.com - Cool little online tracking program; also has a blog and an internal forum

And of course, there is always my weekly inspiration which I find in The Biggest Loser.  Yes, that's right, it's one of my guilty pleasures.....I love it!  And for any of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook, then you all know I also got to meet....no HUG....my Biggest Loser idol, Dolvett about eight weeks ago (a moment I actually apologized to Dolvett for on his Twitter because I was totally uncool and jumped out of  my car to hug him)! "Hard work....dedication people!" (seriously, the quote is on my mirror)

When All Else Fails

Sometimes trying to do it all own your own is just too much.  So when that moment hits you, I say hit Jenny Craig of Weight Watchers.  I've used them both in previous years and can't say enough about them.  However, if you're on a budget, might I recommend the Smart Ones and Vita Tops found in your frozen food section.  Match these with your own salad and presto, you have a JC and WW comparable meal at half the price. (I'm nothing if not practical after all.)

Jerry Springer Wrap-up Moment

Now I'm sure those of you who have known me for years are now wondering if I've "fallen back into a bad mindset" since I'm actually writing a blog post about weight loss.  Fear not my compadres, it's actually quite the opposite!  Over the years, one of the things I've learned is to be comfortable in my own skin....and that includes with how my body has changed after 13 fun-filled surgeries and two super-weight gaining pregnancies (I totally embraced the belly pants when I had the opportunity).

Though it is because of this fact that I am often reminded around this time of year, not to panic when the swim suit season ads kick into high gear.  I calm myself, take a look in the mirror and remind myself that I'm still a pretty hot ticket.  Sure, we could all use a little extra help here and there, and THAT is the reason for today's post - super simple, easy, no panic ideas for dealing with the onslaught of the skinny season attack ads.

So remember:

• Marilyn Monroe was a size 14 (or so they tell us)
• Curves are natural  - don't believe me, check out some rocking 14th Century art some time
• And, as long as your healthy....just be happy with who you are

......and be good to yourself, and each other. 

The Disney Vault...Just Say No!

So for weeks we've been looking for a copy of Monsters, Inc., one of the greatest Pixar/Disney creations ever, in my humble opinion.  We had a copy, but it's been MIA for weeks and you can't get it on the Netflix Instate Queue....not an acceptable status when you have a three year-old in the house who loves her some Sulley!

Yesterday we went to Barnes & Noble, or as I like to call it "My Meca", in search of a new copy of the aforementioned  fabulous movie.  Not on the shelves....hummm.....no worries, ask a super awesome B&N Staffer to check the all-knowing computer for its location.  GASP.....what?????  The vault what?????  It's true, the Barnes & Noble Oracle returned a message stating they had no copies as it was being returned to the Disney Vault!

So of course, as any good consumer, mother of a toddler and all around Disney lover would do, I started racking my brain to come up with a list of all of the movies I MUST OWN (basically to build my own vault in order to prevent any future such mix-ups from occurring).  So today, for your reading pleasure, I give you my list.

The Scott Top 10 Disney/Pixar Vault

So before you read this list.....spoiler alert.....you won't find Bambi or Dumbo in the list as I have a personal rule about watching movies that leave me in tears within the first 15 minutes (true story....watched both movies ONCE as a child and swore never to watch them again).  And before you ask, Old Yeller is in this category just because, well....it's Old Yeller.

1. Monsters Inc. - I think we've already established why here, right?
2. Chicken Little - OMG, if you haven't seen it....do it....now!  I laughed so hard when I saw this and still dance and sing with my girls whenever we watch it!
3. The Little Mermaid - Fabulous sing-a-long fun!
4. The Nightmare Before Christmas - A holiday favorite my girls and I watch each year after decorating for Halloween.  Love me some Jack!
5. Toy Story - You'll laugh....you'll cry....you'll see it again and again! I mean come on...Tom Hanks people!
6. Robin Hood - To me, this is the best telling of the legendary tale hands down!  Plus, almost 40 years later, I still sing the songs and genuinely love watching this one.
7. Finding Nemo - My love for Ellen DeGeneres aside, I feel happy and completely filled up again every time I watch this one.
8. Sleeping Beauty - My absolute favorite of all the Disney Princess.  I often say my three girls are Flora, Fauna and Merryweather.
9. The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh - My first true love, Winnie!
10. Lady and the Tramp - Or as my daughter calls it, the "puppy spaghetti movie".  Calling it a classic is an understatement o me.

Those are just some of mine that I recommend, should you have a darling toddler of your own (or heck, just because they rock).  There are so many to choose from though.  Let me hear about your favorites!

Trust Me....Really

So here is something that strikes me as odd.....trust.  I've heard many times throughout my life "I don't trust easily" or "It takes me a while for someone to earn my trust."  I'm sure for some people this is true when it comes to relationships, but have you ever thought about how many strangers you trust on an every day basis?

Okay, so hear me out on this one.  I was driving in the car to my in-laws last week and another of my unusual random thoughts hit me as some jackwagon whizzed by us at the speed of "seriously too bloody fast".  Yes, that guy is unsafe, and a jackwagon as I clearly stated previously, but what about that car behind me....or that one over there....or that one?  All of those folks are driving along like normal every day people.  And her I am in my car with my entire family, driving along in the mix of all of them.  Hummm.....do I trust them?

Until that instant, I really had never thought about it, but to a certain degree, we must all trust each other in order to get into our cars and drive around.  That's a lot of trust to project on a bunch of perfect strangers!  And that, of course, got me thinking, what other kinds of random acts of trust do I just toss out there on an every day basis.

Well, there are the teachers at my kiddo's school. Sure, as we've clearly established I'm an active PTA mom and I live in a bubble, but still...I don't know ALL of the teachers, but to an extent, I trust them because I send my baby there every day.  I trust they've all been trained and in case of an emergency, will protect my child as if she was their own.

The local paper must trust all of us because they still put 50 papers into that machine and believe everyone will put in money and take only one.  The kids in my neighborhood trust each other because they leave their bikes all over the place and no one every touches them.  The library trusts me to check out a book and bring it back in the same condition as when I found it (sure, they can charge a fine, but really if you won't bring back a book, what are the odds you'd pay your find).  I even trust the person taking my food order and bringing me food.

Now sure, if you're looking for a new doctor or hair stylist, odds are you'll ask around.  But think about how many of us read reviews online left by people we've never laid eyes on.  We trust that their opinions are valid and the online ratings system is now a staple in all areas of our life.

I dunno, maybe it's not as mind boggling to everyone else, but I just find it interesting to see how much trust we as a society still place on each other, considering all you hear about on the news is the bad stuff.  Maybe it's because I'm a trusting person by nature or an eternal optimist, but I'd like to trust that we're not all that bad after all.

Spinning Out of Control

As a marketer I get the need to stand out.....be different.....get your product noticed.  But let's be honest here, do the little dudes spinning signs on the side of the road really count as providing a "good marketing experience?"  Hear me out here.......

So when this trend first started it was people standing on the side of the roads holding signs.  They were fairly unobtrusive.  What would catch my eye back then was the fact that it was something out of the ordinary.  You didn't expect that little man with his sign to be there on the corner.  He was just hanging out, holding a sign advertising a sale of some kind and typically, it even had a directional arrow on it so you knew where the store was located.

From there we went to people wearing costumes and waving at passing cars while holding signs.  Okay, a little odd, but still, not utterly obnoxious.  They aren't too distracting and I can see what they are advertising (although I tend to wonder about who possibly convinced them to where the odd chicken outfit or convinced them that wearing the Statue of Liberty outfit in the dead of Summer was a good idea).

It was at that point that the Marketing Powers that Be went too far!  The next wave brought in the future - strange little skateboarding, gum chewing, iPod listening, dancing, sign-spinning dweebs!  That's right, I said dweebs!

First and foremost, I can't read the bloody sign because Prince Spins-a-lot is flipping the dang thing every which way from Sunday and I can't make out anything other than the fact that I believe there is blue and white used some place on the sign.  Add to that his super fresh dancing moves and I'd be hard pressed to find anyone who can now read the damn thing as he twirls around in a constant state of motion!

It's typically at this point that I loose all interest in whatever they sign is promoting and begin focusing on said dweeb.  Where did his parents go wrong?  At what point did they decide that encouraging the life skill of dancing with a sign was all they had to push the lad to aspiring to?  And at what point did this life-skill become cool among Generation Y?  (and clearly, if this is where the bar is set, I now understand their generation's label)

As a parent I tend to second guess myself on my wonderment and outward judgement of the little sign dweebs. I mean, aren't I always saying I just want my kids to be happy?  And if we're being honest here, the Dweeb Brigade does look happy, flipping and dancing around with their little signs.  So as I can't come up with a real answer here that I'm comfortable with, so I'll just continue to sit perplexed in my hypocritical judgement of the Spinners and will try and rationalize it as a Marketer.

But as a Marketer.....nope, nope I just can't see the point from this side either.  I mean, if I want my client's message to be seen and heard, I don't think giving a sign with lots of writing on it to a dim-witted sign flipper is really the best avenue.  If you can't read the sign, how are you, Joe Consumer, going to get the message and suddenly decide to yourself "heck yeah, I was just thinking that I needed to buy a new table and those are 75% off!"

If I'm not allowed to sit in judgement and want more for GenY, then can't I at least sit in judgement of my peers and long for the days of slick, subliminal messaging, catchy jingles and cartoon spokesmen?  You can't tell me it didn't work.  Oreos.....Oscar Mayer Bologna.....Slinky?  Go ahead, have a Coke, teach the world to sing and tell me those jingles didn't just get stuck in your head?

Coming Up Roses

What is it about this time of year that seems to bring such a feeling of hope and renewal?  I have this feeling of great expectations that seems to hit out of no where about this time every year.

Growing up I always thought it had to do with my birthday; I mean as a kid, who didn't experience a bit of euphoria whenever their birthday rolled around?  But as I've gotten older I've decided that it's something more than just that "all about me" feeling that comes from your birthday (or in my case, the annual week long festival I affectionately refer to as Becky-palooza).

I was in the car yesterday, on my way to lunch with friends, when this annual feeling came up and announced its arrival.  As is standard for me in the Spring, I was cruising along with my windows rolled down, bee-bopping along to my 80's playlist on my iPod (yes really, it's STILL my favorite playlist).  All of the sudden I was overcome with a feeling of pure bliss; a moment of true "the World is my oyster" optimism.

Now as most of you know, I'm a fairly optimistic person by nature, so feeling like I can tackle anything isn't new for me, which is why this annual sense of renewal is so fascinating to me.  I can see why every Fall you feel like you're starting something new; I mean, think about it, we were all trained for how many years to start a new school year in the Fall.  New binders, unused pencils and a fresh box of Crayons always spelled the start of something exciting and big!  But Spring is some how different as it's not tied to some childhood process or calendar marker for most people.

Every year, without really even thinking about it, I get the urge to clean the house from top to bottom and revamp my wardrobe with new, fresh feeling pieces to spice things up.  I typically change up my hair color, moving from a warmer reddish brown to something much lighter and brighter (I am a graduate of Cher school of hair, so I am well versed in the art of mixing it up and using hair as an accessory).  I suddenly drop my "go to boots", a staple of my Fall and Winter wardrobe, and instead opt for flip flops or the feeling of being just plan shoe-less (always hearing my Mother's voice in my head cautioning me about the dangers of going barefoot).

The windows in the house suddenly move to a permanent state of open and I find myself searching for any excuse possible to drive some place just so I can roll the windows down and crank up the iPod a little more.

I'm sure the brightly colored flowers and the return of green in the formerly dormant grass has something to do with it, but there's more to it than that.  I mean if that's all it was, I should be happy as a little clam come Summer as well (although in all fairness, I do live in Texas and am not a desert dwelling animal by nature, so Summer isn't exactly an excuse for me to hang around outside for great lengths of time).

Each year I find the voice of my Grandfather booming through the memories of my mind singing "Beautiful, Beautiful Texas" each time I pass a field of bluebonnets.  Around this time of year I find myself reciting "Spring has sprung, the grass has riz," without prompting from anyone else.  And about this time annually, without warning, I look down and am caught by surprised as my previously painted dark purple toenails have some how changed into shades of bright purple or pink (it's not like little toenail elves come in and do this overnight - I am the one that paints them, so why this comes as a surprise to me at some point always baffles me).

For me, Spring is a time of year like no other.  Everything feels new, fresh and possible.  Optimism abounds from every corner of my life and my inner-being becomes some how, recharged again.  It is a magical time that I am happily surprised by and welcome each year.

Help With the Little Things

As part of launching my own business, I discovered that I needed some help.  Lucky for me there was someone who loves to hang around me, who works for virtually nothing and was available immediately.  Of course I'm referring to my darling and occasionally "very three" year-old daughter, Sarah.

On my first day here she was over joyed to discover that I wouldn't be going into the office and was happy with just swinging by my home office on occasion to make sure I was still here.  There were several of these little toddler drive-bys throughout the day.  She even brought me part of her snack around 2:00 p.m.

By day two her demands became a little greater and she insisted that we eat lunch together.  Being one to not typically stop for lunch, having this break in the middle of the day turned into a double surprise for me.  Not only did I actually get to let go and relax for a bit, but I got to do it with one of my most favorite people on Earth.

By Wednesday, Sarah was in full "Sarah form."  She decided to spend the day with me, spending several hours sitting on the floor beside my desk coloring and singing to me.  She took a break at one point, climbing up on my husbands guitar case, apparently an excellent stage, and put on an entire performance.

By Thursday we began to get into a groove together.  It seems our new pattern is for me to spend the first couple of the hours of the day in my office alone, answering emails and sending out proposals.  By 7:15 the two older girls emerge from their pre-teen cocoons and I drive them to school.  By the time I return, Sarah greets me with a huge smile and we sit down for breakfast together.  After a morning of her hanging out in the playroom we take a break and eat lunch together in the park, our new favorite place....as long as we get there before the Flower Mound mid-day rush.  After lunch she heads upstairs for a nap and I return to my desk for some serious focus time for the remainder of the afternoon.

Today, day five of our new partnership, she added a new twist to the daily routine.  She's now "Mommy's Helper."  She has decided that she needed to reorganize all the books on my shelf, while singing of course, and then moved all the papers around on the floor into a new collage of some kind.  We ended the day with her helping me with my blog.  She crawled up in my lap to "help me type" (by putting her fingers on top of mine while I typed).

There are tons of risks with starting your own business, but after this week I've discovered that the rewards far surpass anything I could have ever imagined.

Something Funny Happened on the Way to Forty

For those of you that don't know me, I'm one of those warped individuals who has always felt that age is just a number.  Truly, I mean, as long as I am still having birthdays I must still be clicking along, right?

I still feel that way, but wow, the reality of being forty hit me out of the blue today.  No it wasn't anything as spectacular as bending over to pick something up and throwing out my back, suddenly realizing that my body is changing.  It was one of those "holy cow, really?" kind of moments that just struck me while sitting in the park with my daughter.

You see, I've always been a super driven person; never happy unless I had about eight things going at once and lived in a state of constant change.  I've never been good at just sitting or doing only one thing.  Heck, I have a tendency to have three or four books going in the "currently reading" hopper.  I drive my family crazy because I can't watch television without reading or surfing the web at the same time.  For crying out loud, I've never lived in the same place for more than 18 months in my entire life (I swear I'm part gypsy).  I'm telling you, I am the poster child for multi-tasking!

So imagine my surprise today when I was sitting at the park watching my daughter play and......well, that's the point, that was it!  I was just sitting there watching her!  I was perfectly happy and content with that moment.  There was no nagging urge to check my phone or start a new project.  I was sitting there with no need to control her every move or constantly worry that she might hurt herself - I just let her play and do her own thing and that was okay.  That realization got me wondering if I should immediately head for the closest emergency room because clearly I had to be having a stroke!  This type of causal behavior is so against my type-A personality.

After recovering from my initial shock, it hit me that I've been behaving in this "in the moment" manner for a while now.  I've actually watched television recently - no really, WATCHED it!  I've been to the park with the girls on multiple occasions.  Heck, I even took a vacation with my older daughter this weekend and didn't work (so unlike me).  In fact, I recently went.....wait for it.....over two weeks without nail polish on my toes AND I wore sandals in public!  (which everyone in the South knows is a totally no-no for any respectable Southern woman)

A few hours later I was walking through the grocery store, post park so I'm sure I smelled of a lovely outdoor aroma, and caught myself doing it again.  There I was, walking down the hair care aisle singing along with, and rather loudly in fact, Tom Jones' "What's New Pussycat".  I haven't behaved in that manner in public in so long!  And ever since surgery #12, let me assure you that I can no longer in fact "sing".....I now croak in time with the music.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm still a driven person, but some where along the way, in between 30 and 40, some ability to live in the now and enjoy the little things crept back in.  At some point I decided that loosing a half an inch and gaining 14 pounds since high school was okay (no gasping, I still workout, but suddenly I'm okay with my new body and no longer crave my pencil-thin frame from 20 years ago....curves are cool).

I now find myself talking to and playing with other people's children....and enjoying it!  I'm cool with driving a mommy-mobile and the fact that it's never spotless.  Come to think of it, I can't recall the last time my house was up to my typical OCD standards of cleanliness.  It's been in this state of "three small girls live here" for some time now.....and I'm okay!  No one lost a limb.....no friends refused to come over and hang out......no meteors hit the Earth due to some unexplained shift in the universe.

What is it about 40 that causes some to have a mid-life crisis and others to finally slow down and start to appreciate life for what it really is about?  And at what point does the super secret switch inside of us get flipped without us knowing?  Is there a main control room somewhere with the cast of Golden Girls sitting watch deciding when it's time for each of us to flip over?

I'm really not sure how or when it happened, but man, if being forty brings this much calm and clarity, I can wait for fifty!

[END NOTE: And for those of you wondering, yes I did in fact pick up the hair color while in the grocery store today.  I said I'm calmer and am enjoying life more.....I didn't say I was cool with the graying roots just yet.]

Red Light District

As many of you know, I live in what I like to refer to as "The Bubble".  You know what I'm talking about - a small suburb of Dallas where weekends are consumed by parents shuffling children from event to event; where neighborhood block parties are a regular event; and, where a big night for our local police department consists receiving a call about someone locking themselves out of their house.  It's your typical Normal Rockwell meets Gordon Gekko kind of neighborhood.  You know, a "bubble".

Now don't get me wrong - we live here for the same reasons I'm sure everyone else does.....it's safe, beautiful, complete with good schools, great shopping and picturesque environment in which to raise our kids.

So, now that you understand how jam-packed our streets our and how insane our traffic must be, imagine my confusion when, while sitting at the park today with my two year-old (yes bubble behavior at it's finest), I happened to notice a new set of traffic signals being installed.  Now keep in mind that this particular set is being plopped two city blocks away from one set and one city block away from another set....so it's not like anyone could even get their imported car up to a dangerous speed to even warrant another abrupt stop.

I found this particularly unnerving on several levels.  First, there hasn't ever been a wreck at this intersection in the three plus years I've lived in said "bubble" (shock that I've lived in one place over a year aside please).  Secondly, why would a neighborhood such as ours suddenly require the traffic control power of three separate sets of traffic lights within about a 3 block radius.

I think it's the "duh" answer to the second one I landed on that really irked me, if we're being honest here.  You see, the town recently tore down EVERY large, blooming tree that lined our beautiful thorough-fair and replaced it with new and improved, scrawny little saplings.  Why?  Well, because they could I guess.  Because, based on the same display on intelligence of three sets of traffic lights within a three block radius on a very suburban bubble street, they have more money than they know what to do with.

No worries, I'm not about to get all Andy Rooney on you, but seriously, this has to raise a few eyebrows in my little league loving town, doesn't it?  I mean, I can't be the only one who finds this behavior a bit odd, can I?

It just makes me wonder if we, our sleepy little "bubble" in West Dallas, have this much money to throw around and time to kill, couldn't we find something better to do with both?  I can think of a few local causes and neighborhoods who could surely benefit from our need to spend money the bubble-fashion way......"we burn it."

Crabitat for Humanity

So who would have thought that I would become a Hermit Crab lover?  Me....I'm sure the world's biggest arachnophobia, is now the proud owner of two Hermit Crabs.  Okay, well it's the kid who owns them officially but let's face it, when a ten year-old owns a pet, the parent "owns" the pet.

How could this happen?  Glad you asked!  You see, I took my daughter to Houston to visit where I grew up.  While on Mommy-Tour 2012, we made a stop at Galveston, my very favorite place to escape from the pressures of teenage life (go ahead, laugh....I'll wait).

On her first venture out into the ocean, I found myself a comfy spot on the beach and marveled at the pure joy my daughter was experiencing leaping over waves and crashing into the water.  She laughed and screamed as she performed this dance for about half an hour.  Suddenly, she jetted from the water and began stalking something on the sand.  You guessed it, her keen little eye had spotted something moving on the beach.

Now before you go on thinking I'm the coolest mom ever and I let her adopt a little dude she found lollygagging on the beach, know that he too must have spotted her and seen her coming because I can now say from experience, Hermit Crabs can move when properly motivated!  He was gone before she cleared the water.

Well being one not to disappoint, I figured why not try and fulfill what was surely her crab-destiny. So, off to the biggest tourist trap on the Galveston Coast.  We looked and studied the crab options carefully, watching for movement, learning about their personalities until settling on just the perfect specimen.  We bought a Sponge Bob painted crab (whom I'm told is a girl.....and no, I haven't checked).  We bought our tiny crabitat and headed to our hotel.  Much to my surprise, during a moment of post-purchase dismay while surfing the internet, Hermit Crab apparently like to travel in packs.  Yes, packs!  They are village people!

In the logic that only a ten year-old can employ, it was decided that we must stop at the nearest pet store immediately and purchase a friend as "If she is used to a pack, there's no way she'll make it all the way back to Dallas alone!"  And thus my traveling crabitat was born!  So my car, loaded to the brim with road trip supplies, a ten year-old, myself and two crabs snugged securely in their traveling cage, which was strategically placed allowing them the best view possible, hit the road for the long journey home.

Once we arrived, we set up a much larger crabitat and placed it on the island in the kitchen where all in the house could partake and marvel in the amazement that is the every day life of a Hermit Crab.  And I have to say, after two days of being with them, I have found myself making detours by the kitchen just to check on our new arrivals, Rusty and Willard (names in homage of Footloose no less). 

After watching them scamp about, climb on the fake plants and do what I can only imagine is something resembling playing, I believe I see now why they travel in packs, as I guess it's true, it does take a village.

A Caroling We Go

As we approach "the big day", I have discovered that most stations have officially changed their station formats over to Christmas music. I've decided that trying to come up with 24-hours of solid Christmas music must be a daunting task, as some of the songs I've heard lately don't exactly "put me in the holiday mood".

So to that end, I give you my Top 7 Worst Christmas Songs (I'd go for 10, but sadly just trying to mutter my way through these seven was hard enough):

7. Dominick The Donkey (The Italian Christmas Donkey) by Lou Monte...deep sigh

6. Have a Funky Funky Christmas by The New Kids on the Block...some times putting out an album for the sake of making a buck really isn't the right answer

5. Dogs Barking Jingle Bells.....I ask you simply, why?

4. Please Daddy, Don’t Get Drunk This Christmas by John Denver...no joke, this is REAL????

3. 12 Days of Toto Christmas in Africa....I can't even explain this one properly, so just check it out on uTube...but brace yourself!

2. Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer by Patsy & Elmo...hideous song, but yet, just TRY and find a child that doesn't know the words to it! OY!

1. I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas by Gayla Peevey...this song, for me, is the ticking-time-bomb of Christmas! I'm fine each year until THAT dreaded day when I hit a radio station that actually plays this thing....and the bloody song is then stuck in my head until New Year's!

The Hill of Great Speculation

I've mentioned several times that I pass Dealey Plaza and the Grassy Knoll twice a day on my regular commute to and from work. So I guess it will come as a shock to no one that it's one of the more interesting places that I find my mind focusing on each day.

I know that for many people, this location only serves as one of the most horrific moments in our country's history, and I respect that thought. The first time I visited it, it quite honestly gave me chills. I stood there in the spot where that pivotal moment in our history occurred and the World honestly went silent for me. My Lord, what Jackie must have felt in that moment? The gut wrenching chaos that followed is surreal to imagine when you're standing there in this place that seems as large as a football field in the videos we all watched at school. The reality is though that Dealey Plaza is a very small, one block radias that butts up against downtown Dallas and the West End on one side and a major freeway on the other. It's a very claustrophobic, beautifully landscaped space in which the entire World suddenly changed course over 40 years ago.

It's here in that tiny space of downtown Dallas that I enjoy some of my most favorite people watching on a daily basis. Even in the still early moments of most weekday mornings, as the city is just barely starting to come to life, there are already visitors covering the grounds of Dealey Plaza. You'll see them, mostly in small groups, moving from location to location; trying to get just the right view.

On the North side of the Plaza, where the Grassy Knolls lays, you'll find them feet away from the bronze land marker, gazing up at the rust colored building on the Northeast corner. Collectively they sort out the pieces of information that they have gathered over the years and develop their own conclusions.

Each afternoon I chuckle as I see this one gentleman out there with his television around which, a small crowd is always gathered. A video of the assassination plays on a loop on the television. What does he tell him, I wonder? The crowd is always very respectfully engaged as he points to the screen, then to the rust colored building, and continues his story as his arms remain in constant motion the entire time.

Once in a while you'll see a single person, typically sitting across the street from the Grassy Knoll, just gazing at it. I never see a single person sitting on the hill itself; they always seem to sit across the street, as if out of respect for the hill and what it stands for. For these single people, this visit appears as more of a spiritual journey than an opportunity for speculation, as it is for the smaller groups that move from point to point throughout the Plaza.

There are two things I've noticed about Dealey Plaza over the years. First, you never see people displaying outward hostility there. Even if, within the varied clumps of spectators with their differing opinions, they debate and discuss in a very calm fashion. The second is that I have never found one drop of graffiti or trash on the grounds. And no, I never see any cleaning crews. One of the most trafficked spots for visitors in Dallas, Texas and nothing ever seems out of place. Why is this? Why are people able to discuss such a volitial topic with calm respectfulness and keep such a highly visited place in such pristine condition?

Considering our daily lives, drives and political views spawn moments of hostility and the inability to see another's point of view, I wonder what it is about this place that provides such magical guidance. Noticing all the trash along freeways and streets that community groups and inmates are often relegated to picking up, why is it that this place remains in a constant state of beauty?

I'd like to think that Dealey Plaza, this place of such a horrific moment in time, embodies the dreams and hopes of one man and an entire generation. For in this place, everyone is equal, all thoughts and opinions are welcomed and considered, and everyone respects and does their part to maintain the beauty that is around all of us. I'd like to believe that in this place, a man didn't just die, but rather, still lives on to guide us all.

Mommy, Party of One Now Being Served

And so it was that I found myself the only human occupying my house for a 24-hour period this weekend. Now I want to make a distinction here that I was the only human in the house, for saying that I was "alone" would really be a huge misnomer; I was, in fact, all but alone.

As is normal around my house my cat made several guest appearances throughout the weekend. I've noticed that in recent years she's not as under my feet as she used to be; her sitings have become more casual in nature. I typically now notice her as the statuesque figure sitting on the bed or in a chair in whatever room I'm in that occasionally meows at me for support with my task at hand, or just to remind me that she's still there and is now ready to accept whatever affection I have at the moment to bestow upon her.

I also had the constant shadows of my boys to keep me company. As I fluttered around the house accomplishing various tasks, there they were, the ever vigil fawn and black Pugs, at my feet. We moved together as a unit from room to room throughout the day and finally found ourselves, quite literally, in a dog pile on my bed around 10 o'clock last night as we hunkered down to watch a movie and fall asleep.

The constant companionship of my quadrupedal friends provided me with a nature feeling of the house feeling full still, even though the constant harmony of televisions and children playing were no where to be found. They also served as the best alarm system known to man! Even a rogue twig falling on the roof prompted their ears to perk up and listen for additional signs that there might be a potential intruder around. I'm not sure what they'd do exactly if an intruder ever did show. My fear is that they would most likely see them as an opportunity to play, rather potential danger, and wound bound torwads them with the enthusiam and constant snorting sounds that only Pugs can provide. But hey, at least I'd know someone was there.

My three little counterparts also gave me an excuse to say "I was talking to the animals" when I found myself, at several points throughout the weekend, talking to no one in particular. I guess that's another reason why I say I wasn't "alone"; it's in these weekends that I am reminded that I am a real person and not just "mommy", "wife", "daughter". I have a habit of talking to her, this often lost person, during these weekends; something I really should do more frequently (and no not a in Cybil kind of way).

See, these weekends, or the brief moments in time when I am lucky enough to find myself in the quiet solitude of my house or car, give me something that most people can't even find in a therapist's office. These weekends give me an opportunity to clear out the tasks on my ever growing To Do List as well as clear out the cobwebs in my head.

I'm sure to a lot of people if they had a weekend all to themselves, the first item on their agenda would not be to clean the house from top to bottom or to attack their closet, but for me, they were two of the items that took center stage on my weeekend agenda. For me, clearing out my closet was about much more than getting things organized; it was a symbol that the weight I've lost, both physically and mentally, was a success and that I have no intention of going back. Cleaning and organizing other areas of the house were a way for me to show that I am in control once again.

Now please don't take this the wrong way because I treasure my family most of all; but if there is one thing I have learned over the past couple of years, it's that I have to keep my own personal "house" in order, otherwise there won't be anything of me left to give the people I value most in my life. More than getting my soul and mind back in order, these moments in time also give me a sense of normalcy. For most people the idea of walking a flight of stairs or cleaning isn't that big of a deal, but for me and my medical condition, those regular daily activities can be an exhaustive mountain to climb. These weekends are true achievements for me and allow me to feel "normal" again, serving as proof to myself that I am much stronger than I some times give myself credit.

Even if it's 30 minutes in the morning or the time you spend by yourself in your car going to and from work, I think everyone should take the time to reconnect and clear out your mind. Talk to yourself, go ahead....it's kind of fun, and I guarantee you, you'll be one of the best listeners you'll ever find! Instead of focusing on how tired you are at the end of the day, congratulate yourself on all that you were able to accomplish that day I mean, let's be honest here, balancing life, family and work is not an easy task at all, but it's worth reflecting on in order to appreciate the spectacular opportunities and gifts that those challenge give to all of us.

Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

It's December 2nd and yes, Virginia, there really is snow outside in Dallas, Texas!!!!! I heard the projections last night as I was falling asleep, but being as a) I live in Dallas and b) it's only the beginning of December, you'll pardon me if I didn't give much credit to what the meteorologists were warning.

I had no idea when I woke-up this morning what wonders awaited me outside. I let the dogs out when I got up, just as I normally do. I prodded the older girls out of bed at 6:15, dressed the baby around 6:45 and packed my lunch and standard six cups of coffee in my thermos shortly after, just as always.

With all the girls loaded in the car I hit the garage door button...and what to my wondrous eyes did appear but a beautiful barrage of snowy goodness! The screams of glee from the car were almost deafening as the weather phenomenon registered with the two almost eight year-olds in the backseat. “Snow!!! Oh my gosh, look, it’s snow!!!!” came the screams.

Something so simple can cause such joy in children and fear in adults. For kids it’s a representation of pure merriment and carefree entertainment; however, for many parents I fear it’s seen as impending doom of the commute yet to come. Not for me though, no sir! Under the guise of assessing the situation, I promptly stepped out onto the driveway, peered up at the beautiful morning sky and smiled a greeting to my old friend. I even faked a need to get gas before dropping them off justs so I could stand out in the snow and enjoy the feeling of the flakes as they fell upon me.

No matter how many times I see it or how many times I’ve had to scrape it off my car, snow still holds that same child-like wonderment to me. The beautiful melodic sound it makes as it falls gently from the sky; the amazing power it has to change the entire landscape overnight; the hours of endless entertainment it offers alone or with your children building snowmen, throwing snowballs and sledding.

I had to catch myself several times on the drive in. I would notice that instead of watching the SUV in front of me, I was monitoring the way the snowflakes looked as they hit my windshield. Each flake splat made a unique pattern. Thank goodness the brake lights snapped me out of my mesmerized trance!

Maybe it’s the idea that with snow a new season is officially announced and that new season offers change and a new adventure, or perhaps it’s just an excuse to act like a carefree child again, if for just a moment.

Triscadecaphobia? I'm Afraid Not!

Greetings and salutations a grand "Happy Friday the 13th" to one and all!

I realize that for many folks today is a day of potential gloom, doom and otherwise bad things. However, for me, today is a great day as, well first of all, it's Friday and secondly and more importantly, it's one of the few times a year I get to dazzle folks with my use of the word "triscadecaphobia" (a.k.a. fear of the number 13) My favorite teacher of all time, Ms. Sterret Ann Frank, taught me this word some 22 years ago after discovering that my favorite number is, in fact, the number 13. Ever since then, whenever a Friday the 13th rolls around, I smile and think very fondly of her.

Ms. Frank passed away a few years back from Alzheimer's. She was an amazing, vivacious, tenacious and brilliant woman who became a true role model for me. So, in honor of Ms. Frank, today we shall all pause and enjoy thirteen facts about my beloved number 13...both the good and the bad:

1. On Friday, October 13, 1307 the Pope of the church in Rome in Conjunction with the King of France, carried out a secret death warrant Against "the Knights Templar".

2. Christians consider Friday as the day on which Christ was crucified by the Romans.

3. In Ancient Rome, the citizens dedicated the 6th day of the week to their beautiful Goddess Venus. Eventually this day evolved into Friday, and was considered to be the luckiest day of the week.

4. According to Norse lore, Loki was the 13th god in the Norse pantheon. More specifically, Loki was believed to have engineered the murder of Baldr, and was the 13th guest to arrive at the funeral. This is perhaps related to the superstition that if thirteen people gather, one of them will die in the following year.

5. The number 17 is apparently Italy's unlucky number, because in Roman digits 17 is written XVII, that could be rearranged to "VIXI," which in Latin means literally "I have lived" but can be a euphemism for "I am dead." Okay, so this isn't the number 13, but I just wanted to prove that not everyone hates the number....so fear other numbers. HA!

6. It is the smallest integer with eight letters in its spelled out name in English.

7. In Hinduism, on thirteenth day of death a feast is organized. It is believed to be organized for the peace of the departed soul.

8. In Judaism, 13 signifies the age at which a boy matures and becomes a Bar Mitzvah.

9. Triskaidekaphobia, as a word, was coined in 1911.

10. Friday the 13th has been considered an unlucky day since the 1800s. Geez, you'd think we'd get over it by now though, eh?

11. Alex Rodriguez (began wearing it upon joining the New York Yankees), Dan Marino and Wilt Chamberlain all wore the number 13.

12. Colgate University also considers 13 to be a lucky number. They were founded in 1819 by 13 men with 13 dollars, 13 prayers, and 13 articles. In fact, the campus address is 13 Oak Drive in Hamilton, NY and the all men a'cappella group is called "the Colgate 13."

13. I was 13 years old when I skipped school the one and only time in my life. According to legend though, my Mother knew I wasn't there in under 13 minutes after the first period bell rang. Drat!

Life's Lessons

If there is one thing I've learned as a parent it is that I grow as a person right along with my kids. For me, this week has been a true testament to that theory of thought.

The week started out great! All kids were dressed and ready for school Monday morning in record time! Now knowing how OCD I am, you might think every day runs this smoothly, but alas, we don't typically hit our collective Girl Power groove until about Wednesday most weeks; so to have us all in synch and moving along like a well oiled machine on a Monday morning was a treat indeed!

However, my excelling Monday dreams were dashed around 12:20 p.m. when my cell phone suddenly began vibrating and the name of one of my daughter's school appeared in the caller id. "Uh oh!" was my first thought! The very calm school nurse on the other end of the phone explained that my daughter had taken a hard fall on the playground while running and jump roping. Most children would dare only attempt ONE of those tasks, but not my over-achieving, take no prisoners child....no sir!

I quickly got someone to cover my 1:00 p.m. meeting, loaded all my stuff in the car and drove as quickly as possible, within the posted speed limits of course, to her school. Upon arrival I gazed upon the most pitiful of sites for a mother...a little one, who clearly had just composed herself a few moments earlier, sitting in the nurse's office bandaged up with an ice pack on her eye.

After gathering up my child and all her belongings, I took her home and got her all situated on the couch for an afternoon of recovery. Movies....check! New ice pack....check! Tylenol....check! She snuggled up to me and began the recovery process while I finished my workday from the house. By 6:00 p.m. that evening she was right as rain and was proudly sporting a lovely purple and blue eye.

The next afternoon when she got home, she asked to go outside and play with her friends. "Sure baby," was my reply. I began reminding her of the boundaries of playing outside....you all know the drill I'm sure...."stay between our house and the black car", "don't go in the street", etc. My daughter, very politely, cut me off by placing her hand on my arm and said, "Mom, I know it's hard to let me grow-up, but you're going to have to try some time."

Sigh, and there it was! THE moment I had been dreading and hoping wouldn't arrive until my child was at least 30 years old. Mom? Not Mommy? Wasn't this the same child I had just nursed back to health 24-hours earlier? Wow, apparently she's not a baby any more.

Two days prior to this moment, she announced to me that she had discovered "the truth" about Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy. As I sat there pondering the moment, I began to acknowledge all those little hints that I had been denying up to this point: picking out her own outfits (which now resemble outfits I've seen on Disney and not a Gymbore catalog), fixing her own hair, refusing to hug me in public, etc.

I guess you could say this was a trail blazing week of new adventures and experiences for both of us then. She took another tumble along the path of growing up and learned a valuable lesson about concrete, and I took another step towards letting go a little bit more in order to allow her to live and grow via her own path.

Just as learning not to run and jump rope is often a lesson one can only learn through personal experience, as is the lesson of embracing the gradual process of accepting that my little girl is growing up.

Fall-ish In Dallas

Yep, it's that time of year again....it's Fall in Dallas; my favorite time of the year! Fall in Texas is a different thing than Fall up in the Northern states. No here, the leaves don't change into vibrate reds and oranges before they get gently swept away by the incoming crisp Arctic blows. Here the leaves hang on until about mid-November and then give up and over the course of about, oh I don't know, a weekend, die and spiral to the ground in an uninspiring mess.

Nope, you can't use the leaves as a gauge here because Nature works a little differently in Texas. Around here, we don't really have what most would call "the true four seasons". Always needing to be bigger, we don't settle for just four seasons; instead we have six "temperature and activity ranges". I guess if you had to compare it to places that have "the true four seasons", it'd go something like this:

Spring - A four week period when it's about 80 degrees and it's truly beautiful and enjoyable to be outside; flowers are in bloom and the air is amazing! Women get pedicures, men begin preparing their grills and children begin clamoring for the pools to open.

Post-Spring - A four week, Texas only season, observed when the rest of the country is still enjoying moderate temperatures and we begin crawling into the 90s and sneezing all over the place because everything is truly in bloom now. The pools are now open and conversations are beginning to compare droughts of years past as residents brace for the upcoming months.

Summer - The sixteen week period in which the damn mosquitoes are frigging everywhere and the air is sick with the smell of Deep Woods Off! It's so hot that all most women can muster is a ponytail and flip-flops for "dressing up". Children only hit the pools during the early morning and late evening hours because, well, the water is virtually boiling...but hey, for some reason it's a great excuse for men to BBQ! And I mean why not...you're already hot, why not hang out around a grill loaded with a multitude of marinated meat?!?! It is during this period that thermometers in these parts will max out some where around 104 and most Native Texans will begin harking for the return of Winter in order to catch a break from the oppressive heat and drought.

Post-Summer - The eight week period directly behind the never-ending drought previously referred to as "Summer" in Texas. This is the period in time when our temperatures fluctuate between 98 and 75 on any given day and every cricket within 1,000 miles will magically migrate into our great state and begin camping out on the sidewalks, streets and entryways of our buildings and homes. Everything that died, or went into Summer-hibernation, during the previous sixteen weeks due to drought will suddenly wake back up because it will start raining as if ordered by Noah himself. We will all once again begin sneezing all over the place as if it were Spring due to the sudden re-blooming of everything and the flip-flopping temperatures. In case this still doesn't sound familiar to any of you, this section of time is sometimes better known by it's more formal and beloved name of "The Beginning of Football Season"!

Fall - The two week period when it is once again amazing to be outside and we are finally safe from any potential pollen, ragweed or other hay-fever inducing particles. Women will ditch the pony-tail look and will once again begin to curl and straighten their hair as there is no longer a fear of instantly frizzing when stepping outside due to the heat and humidity. During this time men will begin preparing for hibernation during what is commonly called "post-football season" or "football draft season".

Winter - Ahhhh Winter...yes here this is known as the 18 week period when everything will once again die, including the mosquitoes and bloody crickets, and we will break out our heavy coats and sweaters (because to us 40 degrees might as well be the actual temperature for freezing water). Children will begin praying for "ice days" and school closings. It is during this time of year that you will most often hear Native Texans spouting the question of "Geez, how many more weeks until Summer is back?"

Texas Our Texas

So, as my thought process often begins, I was riding along in the car this morning and something came on the radio that got me thinking. Well first of all, let me explain that by “riding along” I really mean sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic in the rain because no one in Dallas can drive when it rains (this is not an opinion but rather a scientifically proven fact).

Anyway, so Three Dog Night came on and as always, being that they are officially on my list of top ten favorites of all time, I sang along with them. "Oh I've never been to heaven; but I've been to Oklahoma. Well they tell me I was born there; but I really don't remember....."

This song has always held a special place in my heart, aside from the aforementioned comment. You see, I WAS in fact born in the state previously referred to as Oklahoma. (Point of clarification on this one though - I was born on an Army Base, so I officially was born on Federal land, NOT the state known to many as Oklahoma.) And as the song goes, thankfully I really don't remember being born there (this is probably why my Mother used to sing this one to me when I was but a wee child).

That's the line that got me thinking this morning. You see, most people would be down right proud, if they even cared at all, to be born in Oklahoma. For example, the majority of my husband's family, well almost ALL of them, are Okies. And if I must admit it, it is a beautiful state, but come on; we all know that “Oklahoma is O.K.”….why be just “O.K” when you can be Texas? (Follow-up point - see, when you're born on Federal land, you get to "choose" your home state....plus, when your family is from Texas and you're a direct descendant of Sam Houston, it's kind of an unwritten rule that you too then, are a Texan. Again, this is another scientific fact, as is the rain to Dallas driving ability ratio.)

So while musing over this point this morning it dawned on me; I've never lived any where else that was anything like Texas. In no other state have I ever run across the same statewide, ingrained pride as you will find in this state. Now hear me out on this one…sure, most states have "a state song", but hell, in Texas we not only have A state song, we have an entire damn song book! Go ahead, take a few minutes and start listing them out in your brain.....see, I'm right.

Most states have one official state license plate. Well not us....we have multiple ones to choose from. I'm not just talking about the special plates, like SPCA or university alumni plates; I mean plates just paying homage to our state. I was able to find six plates alone on my drive in. SIX!

Sure, most states have state pride, but how many other states can you personally toss out a one-line motto or charge for? Walk into any bar, school or train station in Texas and yell "Remember the Alamo" and see what kind of response you get. And if you think we keep this kind of pride contained just within our boarders, trying walking in some place in another state and sing out "The stars at night are big and bright...." Twenty bucks says that someone, other than you, will respond with "clap, clap, clap, clap....deep in the heart, of Texas!"

And why wouldn't we be overly proud? I mean, after all, we are the only state in the Union that is allowed to fly our flag at the same level as the United States of America's flag. Heck, even our state tourism board claims that we are "a whole other country"! Take that California!

Here is how bad I personally wanted to secure my roots firmly in the soil that is my home state. On Mother's Day, 1997, while living in New Jersey (I know, right?), I had the state of Texas tattooed on my body. Truth! Later that year, when I moved back home, I honestly stopped and got out of my car and quite literally, kissed the ground as I crossed over the boarder back into Texas. I was home! Don't get me wrong, I loved living in other places, but as they say, "there's just no place like home."

Look, everyone knows that "everything is bigger in Texas." Sure, we might not officially be the largest in population or land mass, but I'll be damned if we aren't the biggest in state pride! Yeeeeeeehaw! (Feel free to wave your proverbial cowboy hat and stomp that boot here...well, after you dismount from your horse and secure your cattle first, of course.)

Monday, Monday

So as I sit here poised to write something witty and entertaining today I realize....I’ve got a big bag of nothing to offer today. What? Gasp! No really, it's true...nada! Could it be that I've encountered that dreaded Yeti known to many as writer's block or could there be something more devious at foot? Personally I feel it's the latter as anyone who knows me knows that I am rarely one who finds themselves ever at a loss for words.

Yes, I actually think what we're now experiencing together, as you read along, is the concept affectionately known as “Monday”. That's right kids, "Monday, Monday", as it's known to the Mama's and the Papa's; "Manic Monday" as it's known to the Bangles; and "A case of the Mondays" as it's referred to in one of my all time favorite cult films Office Space.

I should have known when I woke-up this morning that today would be the proverbial Monday experience; however, I went ahead and got out of bed and trudged ahead thinking that I could conquer anything....even a Monday!

Luckily I’m an evening shower person (I know, TMI), so that saved me time as I laid in bed for an extra hour today; however that didn’t save my hair. Yepper, I have to admit even I was a bit startled when I stumbled into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of the curly inferno on top of my head this morning. “Nope, no time to straighten that out,” I thought to myself. So I dropped in a couple of combs to my hair, lied to myself and called it a hair-style, and proceeded to get dressed and wrangle the kids to head out the door.

By the time I actually attempted to leave the house, I found that not only was I 30 minutes behind schedule, but I now had a child sans a shoe and had forgotten to pack the diaper the night before. As I returned to the house to search out the elusive right baby-shoe and to pack the diaper bag, I started the Monday grumbling process of, "this is NOT going to be the day I'm going to have" to myself. You could almost hear the Universe begin to laugh at me and my feeble attempt at free-will.

As I dashed out the door with the baby shoe and diaper bag, I heard a little voice from the backseat say, "Hey Mommy....we didn't fill out my form for the book fair today." Dratts! "Nope, you can conquer this one," I heard my inner voice cheering on. I quickly regrouped and while backing out of my driveway and closing the garage door, I simultaneously managed to procure $10 from my wallet and toss it into the backseat with a "see what you can do with this, baby." (Note: Rearview mirrors were used by the driver and all children were strapped in at all times during the events explained in this paragraph.)

Having managed to successfully deposit two small people at school, I headed off on my drive to the office. Seeing as it is Monday and all, I decided to stop for a spot of coffee (okay, truth...it has nothing to do with it being a Monday, but rather an endless addiction to caffeine and me lacking the energy to actually put a scope of coffee and a bit of water in my coffee pot this morning). As I pulled into the drive of "the Beckon of Hope", known to many as Starbucks, I was confronted with Monday once again. "Four, five, six, seven," my brain continued to tally as I looked at the cars ahead of me. Quickly looking at the clock I made the executive decision that the office would much rather me be 10 minutes late and caffeinated than have me roll in sans the liquid support my brain so desperately craved.

Finally, coffee in hand, and iPod cranking and I was off! Nothing can stop me now! "Aaaahhhh chooooo!" "Oh seriously?!?!?!" I yell to no one in particular as my body jerked from the sneeze and the beautiful substance of my soy mocha coffee went shooting across the dash of my car (as you can tell, I'm really a committed sneezer). But wait....what's that I see....a silver lining???? Not one drop off coffee hit my white tee-shirt. Great Juan Valdez...the gods have spared my otherwise already sloppily thrown together attire by diverting all of the flying coffee goodness onto the dash and floorboard only and not my clothes!

As I regrouped, grabbing a wet wipe out of my middle console and began wiping down the dash while sitting at the stop light, I smugly smirked to myself, puffed out my chest in victory and thought, "Monday my ass, Universe......Monday my ass!"

25 Random Thoughts from Beckyland

Well a bright and shiny good morrow to you all and welcome to Thursday!

Today I thought we'd mix it up a bit and try out a different format...25 random thoughts that just pop into my head. This is something I do every so often as a bit of a brain dump, but I find that it also tends to relieve stress and make me giggle (not to mention that it tends to spawn topics for other blog posts).

Enjoy the random thoughts and your Thursday!

1. I don't understand the concept of pimento loaf.

2. I am a news junkie, so I think I work at the best place ever (insert random plug for BELO and the Dallas Morning News here)! I love seeing the news trucks for WFAA firing up each morning, heading out to see what's going down in our city.

3. I am the person who draws the smiley face on the foggy window on the front door of our office building each day. Look, it's really early when I get here so I'm a bit punchy. Besides, I can't resist the temptation. :)

4. I don't understand the fascination with Twitter. No offense, but I don't have a desire to keep up with my own every move, much less someone else's. So feel free to make yourself a turkey sandwich and NOT to Twitter me about the experience.

5. I was born left-handed, but some teacher in Kindergarten decided that I needed to change that. Dude, that could have totally scarred me for life!

6. I just heard a "smooth jazz" version of Will Smith's "Summer Madness" on my XM radio. Let me just say that it totally just threw me off....that just wasn't right, not at all man, not at all.

7. Speaking of music, I don’t' really like attending music concerts. I'm not talking about orchestra or operas here, I like those; I mean rock concerts. I find it hard to feel comfortable listening and not dancing and acting ultra goofy during them.

8. I actually like the new Miley Cyrus single. True story!

9. I don't understand adult cheerleaders at sporting events. Okay sure, I get what their purpose is; however they aren't "leading cheers", so can't we just call them glorified strippers and be done with it?

10. If Hogwarts were a real school, I'd send my children there and live for Parents Weekend when I'd be able to visit!

11. Why do guys feel it's okay to cut their nails at their desks? Really? Do me a favor and save that little experience for your wife and do it at home....in your own bathroom!

12. Speaking of guys at work, am I the only one that finds it ultra-icky that they take the newspaper into the bathroom and then return it to the public stack so that another guy can take the paper on the same journey? There is NOT enough hand sanitizer out there to make this one okay with me!

13. If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands! (Sorry, told you these were random thoughts.)

14. I actually had a blast car-dancing this morning to Barry Manilow’s "Miracle" on my drive into work. Anyone wanna carpool with me tomorrow? I'm feeling disco coming on!

15. I haven't seen the natural color of my hair since 6th grade thanks to Sun-in and many, many hours spent at the beach. (Of course now it's all about the varying colors of brown and red shades brought to by Nice N Easy.)

16. I have 10 action figures and bobble heads on my desk along with three Buddha statues, of varying sizes, and a Magic Eight Ball.

17. I drink about six cups of coffee a day (according to my coffee pot).

18. I voted for Kinky Friedman last time he ran....and guess what, I plan on doing it again!

19. I am a direct descendant of Sam Houston, the one and only President of the great state of Texas! (Of course then, it was a republic, but now we're just splitting hairs, aren't we?)

20. My partner just got to her desk. She's a scream, but you should know, she's not a morning person. It's taken me a year to learn not to annoy her instantly when she walks in. God love her for putting up with me! :)

21. I'm a cat person. There, I've said it!

22. I won't be watching THE football game this weekend (THE University of Texas vs. those dorks from Oklahoma). Gasp! I know, they could take away my Longhorn status for that....but really, I do this for the greater good. I have WAY too much of my Grandfather in me and watching the game will, for sure, send me into an instant hostile state of yelling and temper tantrums (and often times I even yell at the cheerleaders when they show them)....so I learned years ago not to do watch it.

23. I can't spell to save my life. Viva la Spell Checker! I was honestly the first kid out in the one and only spelling bee I was ever in. I spelled "waitress" wrong. Sigh.....

24. I love birthdays! In fact, mine is a recognized week long event known as "Becky-palooza" to my family.

25. This post took me seven minutes to write and I found six spelling errors in it when I spell checked it. See, told you I couldn't live without the beauty that is Spell Checker.