Friday, August 31, 2007
Taylor just spotted an entire row of the Soul Patrol wearing tube tops:
Check back this coming Tuesday for the official world premiere of this exciting new feature! (Don't pee your pants in anticipation!)
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
I have a degree in English and as I braved the world after graduation, I couldn't say for sure what I wanted to do with it. I could easily tell you what I DIDN'T want to do: teach or write the news.
I worked for a time in advertising. Anyone remember that old print-ad headline: "Get ahead in life, but get a little behind at FigureWorld"? Yeah, I'm not surprised you don't. I wrote that for a small chain of fitness centers in San Antonio.
I also worked for a magazine once upon a time. There I honed my skills as a grahic artist on such in-depth feature stories as "Clay Pigeons or the Real Thing? Which Are Harder to Bring Down?" The magazine was, "Skeet Shooting Review".
Before my husband and I got married, one of his buddies told me, "You know, because of the transfers that come with his job, you won't be able to have a career." I nodded, but didn't really believe him. Turns out the guy was right.
After we got married, we settled into a tiny town in south Texas where jobs were scarce. I didn't feel very hopeful when I went to the only employment agency in town and the sign outside read, "Employment and Taxidermy." I guess if your new job didn't work out, they could have your boss stuffed.
Rather than hang out at home all day, I felt slight interest in a job posting for a "Girl Friday". I was told the position was at a small airport and the duties included filing, answering phones and AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL! I kept looking.
To my surprise, a job became available that had something to do with my education. It was as editor of a newsletter for a Nuclear Power Plant which was being built outside of town. (Let's not get into the fact that I used to participate in protests against nuclear power-I was desperate).
I showed up for the interview wearing a smart interviewing suit and high heels. I was told to put on a hard hat and walk across the gravel road to one of those temporary buildings they erect at job sites. During the interview, I produced my resume and portfolio. Everything was in order.
The interviewer leaned back in his chair and said (in a thick Texas drawl), "Now, once a month you'll be expected to put on a harness and dangle from a helicopter so that you can take pictures of our progress." I've always suspected that this was the moment I blew the interview. I burst out laughing.
I honestly don't remember what happened after that, but for some reason, he never called.
Thankfully, after about a year, we were transferred to Shreveport, LA where I landed my absolute favorite job. I was head of circulation in the library at LSU. (I love libraries. I could kill a whole day in a library and go home perfectly happy.) Sadly, I had to leave that job when I couldn't master whipping off my glasses and letting my long hair down every time a handsome man entered the room.
Ba-dom-pa! Actually, I left that job to have my first baby. I was a stay-at-home Mom until both boys were in school and then I worked part-time at a preschool. After that I wrote a regular column for our local paper for seven years. And, oh yeah, this is our seventh house.
So there you have it. My professional life in a nutshell (such as it is). But, I have a feeling the best is yet to come. Stay tuned.
Friday, August 24, 2007
I wore them to a funeral a few years ago.The church was packed. Toward the end of the service we had communion. In our church, we form a row in front of the altar, standing side by side, as the communion helpers come down the line with the bread and wine. When you're done, you leave and the next person steps in to fill your slot.
It wasn't until the funeral was over that I realized I had a square of cheese sticking to my derriere! Not a complete Kraft's single, thank God (ha) but it was still a 2"x 2" bright orange square of cheese floating on a pitch black background on my ASS as I stood at the altar in front of the entire congregation. I have no idea where it came from, but I'm assuming it's God's way of getting me back for all the times I fooled around in church.
Care to share an embarassing moment? C'mon, speak freely, no one comes in here, anyway!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
He doesn't welcome hugs anymore and I can't put my hand anywhere near his hair or he'll huff off to the bathroom to fix it. I don't believe I've ever seen the boy with a comb, still he's got some kind of a "look" going that I'm not allowed to tamper with.
When I speak to him face to face, I feel like I've shrunk. The memory of kneeling down to look him in the eye is still so clear. Now I need a stepladder to do it.
There are so many more things I'd like to share with you, but this child who used to hop around the house (on purpose) with both legs in one pant leg, is suddenly easily embarrassed. Perhaps I've already said too much.
So let's talk about me. The other night I had a disturbing dream about him. He was walking somewhere with his father and me in a strange city.
He was small, maybe five years old. He wore a bulky baby blue jacket with the hood up over his head. The streets were empty, so I let him walk slightly ahead of us, trudging along a little stiffly with his arms at his sides. Then we turned a corner and were swallowed up by a crowd walking over a small bridge.
Suddenly, my son was gone. Panic stricken, I scanned the area all around me but saw no trace of that little blue coat. Where would he go? I had a feeling he had joined the others moving over the bridge. He didn't know this place. For that matter, neither did we. I didn't know what to do.
I woke up with a horrible, empty feeling, thankful that it was just a dream. But the next day as I was driving around thinking about how tall and handsome he's become, it hit me like a slap in the heart. I really did lose that little boy. He's gone forever. He trotted on up away from me into the world without a backward glance.
That's the irony of parenting. You devote all of your love and attention to a child teaching them how to leave you. I'm thankful that my little boy has become a responsible, likable young man and I know that one day he'll offer me hugs again.
But for now, maybe if I'm lucky, every now and again I'll get to visit with that sweet tiny guy when I'm deep in sleep. Only this time, instead of marching on ahead, he'll stop and turn to me, reaching out to take my hand as we cross the bridge together.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
(Yeah, I figured that would get your attention!) Need a laugh today? Here's a clip from Kathy Griffin's TV Special, "Everybody Can Suck It". Funny stuff!
I'm tossing you a video today because I'm having computer issues (again)!! My desktop is hanging by a thread. I told my husband I'd like a new laptop for my birthday, but somehow I doubt it's gonna happen. (He rolled his eyes. He was probably thinking that he doesn't want to make it any easier for me to keep up with Taylor news. But that's a discussion for another day!)
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Taylor Hicks and Keb Mo perform "Sweet Home Chicago"
I'm tired of defending my appreciation for Taylor Hicks' music! (Listen up, Dan! *wink*) I'm gonna let this video speak for me. You don't have to just sit there and watch it, let it play while you check e-mail or fold laundry or whatever. Before it's over, you'll find yourself moving to the beat. Caution: additive.
A big shout-out to my buddy, tif, who was THERE and shot this video.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Today I picked up Kelly's latest CD to see what all the fuss is about and I can see where Clive Davis would have reservations about it. It's not typical mainstream pop music. It's edgy. It's dark. It's fabulous. Give it a try.
So now that I revealed one of my musical guilty pleasures, tell us one of yours.
I love coffee. That little cup of hot liquid is why I get up in the morning. I love the steam on my face, the feel of the warm mug, the soothing flow in my throat and the caffeine kick. I love that caffeine goes with "breaks." It's a moment for me. Me and my coffee.
But not too long ago, my love betrayed me. It began when my sister took me to her secret haunt: a specialty coffee shop. I had never ventured into one of those too-hip-for-words establishments before. With my sister's prodding, I ordered a café mocha for the first time. What bliss! So much time wasted drinking ordinary coffee! So many flavors to try! So many different ways to prepare it!
I became one of them. I felt too-hip-for-words and loved it. I found myself stopping in if I needed a boast or wanted to celebrate: my birthday, Labor Day, laundry day...you name it. I had my favorite little place where I'd buy my little cup of caffeine joy. But then it happened.
My clothes got tight. I was having trouble sleeping. My walkin-around money was giving me the slip. Turns out my special treat has 340 calories! The extra caffeine was making me nervous. Or was it the cost? Why had I crossed that line into the world of gourmet coffee? How could I have known that an innocent cup of home-brewed coffee could lead to the harder stuff?
Friends suggested I go cold turkey and switch to tea. A healthy idea, but that weak little wanna-be ain't gonna get me out of bed in the morning! Tea is for parties with teddy bears. Tea is for 4:00 in the afternoon, taking a break from croquet. Tea is for when you're sick, for heaven's sake! I'll drink tea at those times, but I must have my daily jolt of java!
Clearly, I had to make a change, but there's no 12-step program for people like me. I had to find my own way. I learned to avoid coffee shops altogether and now drink only half-caf at home with a splash of skim milk.
It isn't so bad, really. I'm sleeping better, my mommy uniform fits again and I'm still getting enough caffeine to keep up with the kids though I'm learning to rely on love and devotion a bit more.
Occasionally, though, when the house is quiet, I find myself alone with Joe. I still enjoy the steam on my face, the warm mug, the quiet moment to dream. But now I dream of the days when I was reckless and lived for purchased percolated pleasures. The days I bought my coffee out.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
And, NO, this is not a Taylor Hicks tribute site!