Let's Get Real: Panty Talk

I like to keep it real. It keeps things on an even keel for relativeness. So with that being said, I'm going to get serious. Right now.

You know how guys like to keep their underwear until the once medium size elastic band looks like it was originally created to be a draw string for an extra large man, and the inseam down the crack is frayed or ripped apart (probably deteriorated threads from too many farts)......and you start to worry if you throw them in the dryer one more time they may disintegrate? Well I've always thought that was dumb and unnecessary....until recently.

Not that I wear them too often, but when I do, I have a few fabulous pairs of underwear that just can't be replaced. My FAVORITES, that don't sneak up into forbidden territory at inappropriate times. Some of them, even with sentimental ties, such as the ones I wore on my wedding day.

I cleaned out my closet last week, purging all inessential, worn out, or outdated items, with one minor exception. It was brought to my attention that I had a drawer full of long ago faded granny-panties developing minor holes and frays (all my favorites).....and another drawer full of outcasts, known as the trespassers (or crackpassers, if you will).

I guess it's pretty bad when my husband tries to help me get my clothes together for work and says,"Are these okay? They have holes in them."

I just CAN'T get rid of them.......Must. Preserve. Favorite. Tattered. Panties.

I had to at least say I tried to be decent......
So now here I sit in a state of defeat, wearing my pretty panties, at work, with a permanent half-wedgie, after unsuccessfully, and probably non-discretely, trying to pick them out all night. 
Fail.
It seems that finding the perfect pair of underwear is like finding the perfect man.

So, I guess my question is, am I alone on this? Is it just as difficult for everyone else to find winners?

In What Kind of Universe???

I said these exact words to my coworker during our last rounds of the morning, "I'm really craving pizza and chocolate milk."

"That sounds gross."

"It sounds amazing, and that's what I want!"

And it's exactly what I got.

Where does a girl get exactly what she wants.....the very essence of what she craves, at the precise moment she wants it, without ever even having to ask??

Oh yes. That would be in my universe.

The one where I'm married to my dream man, who is not only ridiculously good looking, but also so intuitive he can practically can read my mind. The one who woke up at 6:30 am on a Saturday morning to surprise me with breakfast. A breakfast pizza to be exact....with bacon, and sausage, and eggs, and cheese, and salsa, on whole wheat Boboli dough, with a side of chocolate milk.

It's almost creepy how inside my head he is. I'm so lucky, it doesn't make sense.

Liar Liar, Pants on Fire

Ever lie about something, or stretch the truth, to make yourself look a little better?
It's okay; Mother Theressa probably couldn't even get through life without doing it a few times. 

I told a little lie the other day about something so stupid. I don't know why I just couldn't tell the truth initially, but I fessed up shortly after. No harm done.

Kayla Evans-Carruth 

If a bag of tortillas technically expired in Feb, but they have no mold on them because they were kept in the frig....are they still eatable?

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  Jessica Forehand and 2 others like this.

Jim Kitchens Wrap 'em in a wet paper towel two or three at a time, microwave ten seconds, enjoy... as long as there's no mold.

• Kayla Evans-Carruth Alright, Alright, I lied to make myself look better, they actually expired in January....but I decided since I'm deep frying them, that it will kill all unwanted bacteria!
• Christina Locklin I would eat em if they weren't stale :)
• Carrie White Go for it! Deep fried with some salsa!
• Staci Narramore As long as you are willing to except the fact you maybe tied to the bathroom later go for it! LOL
• Mallory Brooke Cox No mold you're good that's my rule!
• Kayla Evans-Carruth haha, Staci, that's what I was worried about!! But they tasted good! No harm done, so far!
• Nikki Andrews No! Gross!
• Sandy Evans their ok, just fry them and make chips. 
• Kelly Jo Baublits i would eat em in a heartbeat. dip in some salsa, queso, quac and you're golden:) 

My landlord lied to me last month. You remember him right? That conniving jerk in disguise as a good guy, who puts the priority of his own extracurricular income before the safety of his tenants. I realized I've been paying him $50 extra rent for 4 months straight. When I called him out on not mentioning it to me, he admitted to noticing, but then tried to tell me it just put me one month ahead on utilities. What?? Sorry buster, a big part of my job is math, and I've already done the calculations (in my head, because I'm awesome like that, and it was really basic math....on on that thought, I'm officially insulted...). You owe me $200. 

My work friend Vickie and I were exchanging childhood stories about lying to our parents, laughing hysterically about the crimes we committed. I wont tell her secrets, but I told her she's plenty old enough to confess to her parents now, since they're 90.
 We decided it's probably a good thing we grew up in different decades, because otherwise we would have been too much trouble together. 

So on that note, I have a couple of confessions I feel like I need to get off my own record:


Dear Mom,
Remember when I said I didn't know how my lamp shade melted, and you took me to the store to buy a new one, but wouldn't let me buy the same cool square one like I had, because you thought it was a flawed fire hazard?
I lied. It was my fault.
I didn't want to you catch me up past my bedtime, so I covered the lamp with clothes so you wouldn't see the light under my door. I not only melted my favorite cool lampshade, but also burned a hole through my most beloved purple wind-. I hid them in the outside trash can so you wouldn't notice.
I know, I know. I could have burned the house down.
Oh, yes...And remember when Dusty and you were in my room, one time, and he tried to nonchalantly ask why I kept a small checkered rug in a weird spot on my floor, and I said 'becuase I liked it as decoration'?
I lied. It was ugly as decoration.
Me and Jenny Malar were playing teacher while you and Daddy were away and we got blue chalk on your brand new Berber carpet. I thought I knew what cleaner you used to remove stains, but accidentally used something with bleach in it instead, and spent the rest of the night trying to color in the new stark white circle with map pencils.....which distracted me from my baking until smoke was escaping the oven, and my 'K' shaped chocolate chip cookie was black as night.
Dusty was trying to rat on me.......at least I didn't burn the house down!
Which reminds me of one more thing.....Remember all those times when Dusty would start screaming in the bathtub, and you would come running and ask what happened and I said 'I don't know'?
I lied.
His crying was a direct result of me hitting him, because he was being a brat, or getting on my nerves. He spent the rest of his adolescence trying to pay me back by being a little tattle tale.

source

There. I feel all better now that that's in the open. Thank you for your understanding.
Love,
Your favorite angel.

Buried Deep......And I Don't Care!

Like "Jimmy crack corn, and I don't care," except for....who would care if Jimmy cracked corn anyway? That song should be about something we would actually care about. Like....."Jimmy cut cheese and I don't care," because  it would be more significant a statement if I didn't care someone just farted next to me. It'd have to mean I loved them a lot.
I've got a strange feeling I'm about to ramble a bit. Try to follow as I spiral, a randomized thought process that women do that links continuous thoughts together.......
I gave up trying to resist the urge to bury myself in a book. Sometimes I cut myself off because it's easy to forget about the planet I live on when I read, but lately I've allowed myself to be a complete addict for 4 and a half books in a row..........
First, I'll admit to reading another Stephanie Plum novel by Janet Evanovich....yeah, it's my 15th book of that series to read, but I just need to know who she chooses in the end!....Morrelli or Ranger.....? She finally said "I love you" in this last book. Baby steps, people, baby steps. (I've yet to watch One for the Money, the movie based on the first book of the series.)

Then I read The Host.......**sound effects please: dun dun dunnnnnnnn** by Stephenie Meyer. During the first couple of chapters I had to concentrate really hard, but then it really takes off into a strange survival story with an interesting twist on the age ol' love triangle......I never thought I'd feel so compassionate about an alien. (And I just heard they are making it into a movie!! Exciting!)
I enjoyed The Host so thoroughly, I decided I wanted to read something else by the same author, so I caved to reading the Twilight Saga Series. I've seen 3 of the 4 movies, out of order like the dummy I am, and thought it would be more interesting to know what Bella was thinking in her head in relation to her love triangle predicament. I'm currently on the third book, Eclipse.....
Which reminds me.....Who saw the eclipse Sunday evening?!?! I'm so mad I didn't know about it until it was over! If only I would have checked my Facebook page, I would have known in time!! I was probably reading instead.....

Speaking of books, has anyone heard the rumble about 50 Shades of Grey? What do you think about it? Have you read it yet? I think it may be next on my list.
Back to Stephenie (Meyer, not Plum), I love how closely she relates music that inspires her to her writing. At the very end of her books, she lists songs that she pairs to the progressing scenes......a sound track for her book. It's the first time I've ever seen such a thing. And we have similar taste in music. I like her.
I have to be very careful, though. It's easy to get lost in a world that doesn't exist, and miss out on things that do, such as this............

Patrick made me the most delicious beer can chicken, and Callie and Sumo found the dripping juices behind the grill. Now we have two very greasy, but sweet (with liquidized brown sugar) puppies.


So, have you heard of 50 Shades of Grey? Have you read any good books lately that I should read? Do you watch have a preference to which version you of the story you are exposed to first: Movie before Book or Book before Movie??

Maybe I Jumped the Gun......A Little....

Remember those barefoot shoes I was totally Gung Ho about? Well I returned them. I decided I didn't have enough patience for them as of yet.......not to mention my knee had started hurting again, and I didn't want to risk it just being a coincidence.

But I'm so glad I went with my gut, because I found the most amazing shoes on the planet. 

Brooks Pure Connect.

It's the most minimalist transition shoe of the line, offering the benefits of minimalist running, but providing more cushion than the barefoot shoe. 

And they're pretty!

I've had them for a few weeks now, and they feel amazing. I'm easily hitting midfoot. They feel so ridiculous light and airy, and it's so liberating for them to feel so flat, but supportive and springy at the same time.  I been squeezing them into my work shoe rotation, running in them about 3 times a week, and have also gone to a body pump class with them. At first the sensation was a little strange, my feet being so level, with no stability provided by extra shoe rubber, but the stronger my muscles get, the more I dislike the feel of my heavy clunkier tennis shoes. 

I've been running without my knee brace for over a month now. 

My I.T. bands are no longer hurting me. 

I no longer go to bed every night covered in ice. 

I'm getting faster and stronger.

So fast, I completely confused the running App on my phone.

Lol, I thought I was going fast in my new shoes;Distance: 196.45mi, time: 00:49:34, pace: 0:15min/mi, speed: 237.80mi/h.

View routesoc.liI did a workout with MapMyRUN! 
Distance: 196.45mi, time: 00:49:34, pace: 0:15min/mi, speed: 237.80mi/h.

Get the app · via MapMyRUN

But really, yesterday my legs were shaking like I was having a Gand Mal seizure attack when I left Body Pump, and I walked over to the treadmill and ran 1.55 miles in 15 minutes on a 3% incline, with NO music! The first mile was 10:00 minutes, the next half mile was 4:36 minutes.....and I felt like I was jogging......it was only 4 months ago that I was running a 12 minute mile, giving it all I had, with 3 knee braces, and barely being able to walk afterwards. 




What running App do you use? Does it ever malfunction like mine?

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The Best Surprise

"Are you ready for tonight? Stay calm, be friendly. Remember?" That's what Patrick said to me before we walked into the Gexa Pavillion. To know why, you'd have to know a few things about our history, one being this story.

I'd been counting down until this Saturday for a month. Patrick told me he had a surprise, and wasn't handing out any hints. We'd already started counting down the days to this concert a couple of months before, when we purchased the tickets. We'd been waiting two years to go again. Two years too long.

We poached the perfect parking spot, on a beautiful breezy day, started up or tiny charcoal grill, and set up our area for the early tailgating to begin.

I had to work the night before, so I double fisted to be safe; one hand grasping my Redline, the other with a secure hold on my Vodka Lemonade. And then I waited with escalating anticipation...........

"What's my surprise? What's my surprise?"

Patrick had packed everything, so I wouldn't wonder why we weren't bringing the lawn ticket's blanket, and saved our tickets at WillCall so I couldn't see them until before the show. The answer was not disappointing, because I was going to pee my pants from excitement induced incontinence when I saw that our tickets had been upgraded to Pit, standing in front of the people that bought front row seats! Thank you DMB Warehouse! 

"So that's why you kept telling me to wear comfortable shoes!"

We ate our delicious charcoal kissed upscale picnic food while other people around us drooled over the smell of turkey bacon, bell pepper, hot sausage links, and fresh corn floating their direction, timing our fire outing almost perfect, to avoid trouble from the bitter mooded venue worker that tried to tell us open flames weren't allowed in the parking lot.

After avoiding a hostile confrontation, in a crowd where everyone was going to the exact same reserved area, with a man that got mad at us when he thought we were cutting in line, we claimed our crowd stance for the night, with merely one row of standing people separating us from the stage. We couldn't have been surrounded by better people. We exchanged past concert experiences with our neighbors and got to know each other a little better, since we'd be sweating on top of each other for the next several hours.

The opening band, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, was casually announced by Dave himself. We grooved to their tunes and gawked at their old school presence with ratty clothes, ungroomed hair, and hairy legged woman.

Dave came back on stage to play the tambourin with their most popular song, "Home is Wherever I'm with You". The very song I heard on Pandora last week while running and thought of how closely it related to Patrick and I's life. How ironic that I'd no idea the band even existed before.  

The girl in the blue dress played the accordion, the tambourin, and the keyboard. A million people in the band, and they still have to have multitaskers!

I can only imagine what it would feel like to look out onto a crowd like that, gathered just to hear you play, and listen while they sang every word to your song, without any prompting, because they knew it so well and love it so much, they just couldn't help themselves. 

When the sun set, the vibrant lights appeared, and the big band of the night made their debut.

Patrick was so excited his hair stood on end.

I kept gawking at how close we were to the stage.

The lights were beautiful, the sound was perfect, and the people that surrounded us were so cool. Everyone kept us a roomy pocket, so I could dance. And dance I did. I only accidentally hit someone in the face once, but she said it was her fault for getting too close. I patted her on the cheek and apologized. She probably hates me.

"Look how close we are!"

As always, every time Dave grabs a new guitar, everyone around tries to guess which song he's going to play on it. It's a fun game.

The tiniest 12-string I've ever seen.

This action jam shot is gives a similar feel to the way we all felt.

Dave played the piano for us. I laughed so hard when I guessed "Out of my Hands" and was right! 

"In yo FACE Pat!"

I can't fathom anyone going to one of these concerts and not falling in love with the music. It's physically impossible not to sway, moving with the rhythm and enjoying yourself with a big goofy grin on your face.

Every musician in the band is so ridiculously talented that they play their instrument with smooth elegance and have so much knowledge about art of music, that the notes practically play themselves. It's like watching each of them release their inner beast, freeing their body of any worldly thing that ties them down.

Tim Reynolds has said he used to hate playing songs. All he wanted to do was jam, but playing with Dave is a whole different experience. The songs have a pulse that sends out a message and creates a space to inspire jams within. That's one of the reasons every song lasts 10-20 minutes; they're just out there having fun!

Despite it all, they remain completely modest in their capabilities and seem utterly thankful for having fans. Dave says sometimes during a concert he gets an overwhelming feeling of joy that makes him want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Carter gave away several drum sticks and one of his cymbals after the concert! He handed one of his sticks to the lady in front of me. Do you have any idea how jealous I was?

I love to watch him play. I wonder if his face is sore after every concert, because he only laughs and smiles for 2 hours straight. I had to smile for an hour straight once in a beauty pageant and my cheeks hurt so bad after.

We came home giggling and talking non stop about how much fun we had, discussing our favorite parts, while eating Whataburger, our favorite late Saturday night snack.

Our last two bracelet experiences have been extraordinary ones. Good enough to go down in the memory books. And for the record, I don't like to wait for surprises, but this one was worth the wait. The best surprise Patrick's given me, aside from when he asked me to marry him.

What's the best surprise you've ever received?

The Oopsie I'll NEVER Live Down

(Only at a DMB concert could you record the very end of a song and it be 4 minutes long. Listen, and you can hear our mouth instruments.)

Present:
Patrick asked me from the kitchen bar window, peering over the counter at me as I was ripping into my Whataburger double meat patty-melt like I hadn't eaten in days, "What did you think was more fun? Tonight, or the Greek Theater?"

"That's a trick question, sir. They are both my favorites for different reasons."

"I agree."

Flash Back:

Being a Warehouse member as it's perks. We scored raffle tickets to a concert we will never forget, at an amazing amphitheater, during a unforgettable time in our lives.

I actually extended my travel nursing contract in Beverly Hills for the exact purpose of being able to go to a Dave Matthews concert at the Greek Theater in Griffith Park. We lived in the heart of Hollywood at Sunset and Vine, just a couple of miles from the venue, and thought it would be a genius idea to ride our bikes to the concert.

No drinking and driving. Just drinking and bike riding. I didn't think things completely through.

The trip there was completely up hill. We peddled hard and despite the perfect weather sweated even harder, but once we arrived, our faces showed nothing but smiles. We locked our bikes to a couple of trees, and found a small tailgate party.
Everything about the concert was fantastic, the outdoor venue small enough for every seat to feel close, with beautiful trees towering up each side, and steep enough bleacher seats to not need to strain over other peoples heads, nestled in the famous hills of the stars. 

We sang our hearts out, played our mouth instruments to the band jamming sessions, celebrated the Jazz Flute guest musician (pretending it was Ron Burgandy), all while I replenished my dehydrated body with the vodka Patrick snuck in, mixed with coke. Eventually my dancing started to get a little lopsided. And my lopsided, I mean I fell over, but Patrick and I assured the security guard that I was just a clumsy dancer, and he believed us enough to let me stay.

When the best concert of my life came to a close, I spent the walk back to our bikes convincing Patrick that I was completely competent enough to cruise a pair of rolling wheels downhill towards home. I didn't even have to pedal, how hard could it be to hold my handle bars in a desired direction? Besides, I hate it when someone tells me I'm not capable.

He gave me confining orders to the sidewalk, fearing I may commit accidental suicide in the chaotic post concert traffic, and I entertained him to calm his worries. Everything was dandy, the cool night wind caressing my carefree face as I relived the concert through my fresh memories, until we reached the road dressed with unfriendly sidewalks, bare of smooth gradual ramps for the handicapped or wheel bound. No, instead every few yards presented an obstacle I haven't tackled since I was a young Evil Kenevil tom boy of a child. Curbs. 

Back in day, I never would have thought twice about jumping a curb, or an unsteady, poorly built ramp for that matter. In present days, I'd think long enough to find a smarter way around such hurdles. In my current described condition, I only thought shallow headed enough to prove that I could do anything I wanted.

I held my breath, allowed my body to recall memory suppressed skills from it's former years, and jumped the curb. "I did it!" I thought, "That wasn't so bad. I wasn't so hard. Why would I ever be scared of a little curb?"

I continued this, exponentially gaining more confidence with each accomplishment, until something unexpected happened. "Happy Happy Sad," we call it. 

I still don't know if this curb was just that much taller, the area not as well illuminated by the street lights, if I got tired and my body failed me, or if I was just too drunk to use proper depth judgement, but the result would still be the same: I ate concrete. 

I wonder what that looked like to Patrick, watching me fly over my handlebars and land face first into the hard manmade ground.

I jumped up fairly quickly, eager to hop back on and pretend like nothing happened. But my bike wouldn't work. I started to get angry as Patrick appeared by my side to the rescue. I brushed off his help and tried to get on again, but something wasn't right. 

"You're chain popped off your bike, you bent your front wheel, and you have a flat tire. ARE YOU OKAY?," he said, ignoring my stubbornness.

Nothing like being wrong to push an over confident girl over the edge. 
I grabbed the front of my broken contraption of a bike, jerking it from his hands, and stormed towards home, marching as fast I my legs would carry me for the next mile and a half. I've been told I aggressively shoved my way through an entire outdoor bar full of people, with no regards to courtesy, yelling out, "Excuse me," without giving them anytime time to flee from my path. I avoided Patrick at all costs, including doing circles around a light poll while waiting on a crosswalk signal, just so I could keep my back to him while he pleaded to know why I was mad. When we made it home, I took a shower, went straight to bed and slammed the bedroom door in his face without saying a word. 

6am came really fast. As I reluctantly arose to my alarm clock, and the groggy haze started to wear off, I noticed my face felt strangely tight. When I looked in the mirror while brushing my teeth, I discovered my chin had grown 5 sizes overnight, and was painted with black and purple tiedye. Only it wasn't paint, it was definitely bruises, and I had to show my face at work, to then come home to a husband that probably had yet to forgive me for my bad behavior from the previous night. Oops.

A lot of explaining and kiss-assing later, I still had my battle wounds to rat on my mistakes. Even a year down the road, I had a lingering sore knot on my chin, convincing me I must have fractured my mandible that night, but I'll never forget how much fun we had before "my big oopsie".

And to this day, we always laugh together about how dumb I was, and wonder how I didn't lose a tooth or do more bodily damage than I did.
I guess I really do have an amazing guardian angel. 

We must always remember, "Stay Calm, Be Friendly."

What's your most ridiculous "oopsie" story?

Lucky, All the Way Around

We celebrated Mother's day twice. One with Patrick's side, over chips and salsa, margaritas, and sopapias.

The Chuy's Mexican food was way better tasting than my hair looked. I don't know what happened to it. I swear I washed it only hours earlier; it wasn't even raining outside or anything....it's a good think I had plenty of wigs to wear later that night to disguise it. 

The other with my side, over fresh deep fried catfish, french fries, spicy beans, and homemade peach cobbler with just churned vanilla ice-cream. 

I'd say all in all, it was a pretty good weekend for delicious food consumption in honor of celebrating our one-and-only-special-to-the-core-only-worthy-of-the-best-of-the-best-Mothers, of course. Accompanied by some front porch sittin', naturally. 

I may not be a biological mother to anyone but,

 I provide, just as a mother would, for my puppies.

I nurture, just as a mother would, at work. 

I cook, just as a mother would, for my husband. 

I love, just a mother would, most of the world. 

And I've been lucky in the mother department. 

All the way around. 

What did you do this year to let your mother figure know she's appreciated?

Flowers Galore......

I spent Friday night and Saturday day exercising my artistic side. 

I know two things about flowers; they're pretty, and they need water. But for some reason, Vickie trusts me to make arrangements for her on big holidays. 

The short cubes were a big hit this year. I love making several arrangements of similar style, because it fosters my creativity to make each one unique.

We did everything out back with the shop opened up, since the weather was so nice and cool, for a change. Business was booming, as usual, so we had work stations set up all over, in inventive places, to get as much done as possible. 

Every year comes with it's own set of challenges. 

You never know how the plants you ordered will be delivered to you as: big, bright and beautiful, or wilted, dry and skimpy.......

But we always find a way to work around the obstacles and deliver something worthy.  

This yellow rose arrangement was made by Marytom, but I included it to show off the pretty butterfly. Once we discovered these things, we were using them in everything! They added such a nice spring touch.

And of course, the real reason Vickie lets me play flowers at her shop is my thorough enjoyment of making the ridiculous requests that take a little more time than normal......because I am super speedy and enjoy the obstacle. Last year's was the carnation dog baskets. 

It may be hard to tell, but this year's special project was a ceramic wrapped gift, with the lid open, and flowers spilling out. Another very short styled design. 

I love the little dragon fly; it looks like he just landed on the daisy. 

Who doesn't appreciate a super cheesy gift from the heart?!?!

I think tropical plants are always a nice change, and it never fails to make me giggle when I think of what my mom affectionately refers to them as. Agh....hmm...*cough, cough* Dickplants...... 

And of course, these nights are always a solid excuse for drinking a few glasses of wine and catching up on any gossip I've been missing out on. 

Everyone always acts surprised when I pull out the camera, as if they don't know me well enough by now. 

But I remind them, they'll be glad we have these one day.....even if they didn't have any makeup on. Who looks back on life and only remembers the best times as the days they put on make-up?

Be sure to call Park Lake Flowers for your central Texas needs, and they'll be sure to put a smile on your loved one's face!

What's your favorite flower?