Astros Game

Things have finally quieted down enough for me to do an update. My youngest son, Jamie, graduated from high school a couple of weeks ago. My mother, two of my sisters and a brother-in-law came to town to help us celebrate. We did so much in the five days they were here that it took me a week to recover.

Some back story: My husband and I worked our butts off for two weeks before company arrived, repairing some of the damage my older son had done around the house before he moved out. We replaced doors, fixed holes in the walls, painted and put down a hardwood floor in his old room.

Thursday morning:



The floor was put down Thursday, the furniture moved back in Friday morning, company arrived Friday afternoon. whew! (My Mom came a few days early and was a huge help in getting the house ready.)

Friday night we all went to an Astros game at Minute Maid Park. I took a carload of people to the game while my husband and brother-in-law picked up my sister at the airport and met us there. Ha! We didn't actually meet up with them for about an hour, because we kept receiving phone updates from them as they moved around the ball field, sitting in empty seats.

We waved to them across the field at one point but when they were finally shooed away by security, they joined us waaaaay up in the nosebleed section.



It was fun. An 18 year old guy sitting across the aisle from us won $25,000 in a contest during the game. That caused lots of excitement. people came over to congratulate him and of course, his picture was shown on the jumbo-tron.

As the game ended and the sun disappeared, we stayed to watch a fireworks display.





We got home after midnight and pretty much headed straight for bed.

More to come!

Somebody's Watching Me

For a reason I can't fathom, my son, Jake, and his housemates want to read my blog. I don't think they're looking for info about themselves. I think his friends are curious about me. (Hi, Jake, Kevin and Mia!)

Ever since he called to ask for the web address, I haven't written anything. I'm sort of paralyzed. But I need to get over it and type up an update.

My mother is coming in SIX days and here's the state of the room we want to put her in:



Well, there's no way we'll be getting a hardwood floor by next Tuesday, but that's OK. We have another extra room upstairs that I can put a bed in.

When they say everything's bigger in TX, they aren't kidding. Houses are huge. Out of all of my sisters, I have the biggest house and it cost the least. We have 5 bedrooms, 3 baths, a game room, dining room, eat-in kitchen, den and living room. 3300 sq ft. It's a bitch to clean. (haha)

So now that Jake moved out we actually have three bedrooms that aren't being used. One is set up as an office. (That's where I am right now!) I can put a single bed in the other room for my Mom. She'll be fine.

But 3 days after she arrives, I have 3 more people coming. I've got to get that room downstairs finished so I can set up the queen bed for my sister and her husband. It's going to be close, but the people putting in the floor think they can do it.

Keep your fingers crossed!

Bring It On Down To Plasticville

America's Got Talent

I spent yesterday afternoon peeling old wallpaper off the walls of my son Jake's room. I wore comfortable capris pants and a sleeveless top. I planned to shower after I finished because it was sweaty work, so my unwashed hair was up in a messy ponytail.

Get the picture? I looked like a slob. That's when the phone rang. My son, Jamie, was on the line.

"Mom? Uh, this is gonna sound weird but...I'm at the auditions for 'America's Got Talent. I wanted to surprise you tomorrow for Mother's Day. Thing is, I forgot my kapo for my guitar and I need it."

To say this was a shock is putting it mildly. I've always encouraged Jamie's guitar playing, but he's been extremely practical about it. Most 18 year olds with less talent would be dreaming of being a rock star. Jamie recognizes how good he is, but knows it would be difficult to make a living as a musician.

Jamie asked me if I could bring the kapo to him and told me I could stay for his audition. "Don't worry about what you look like, Mom. you need to leave right n0w"

That may sound like an odd thing for him to say, but since I'm the only female in the house, the family often has to wait for me to finish fussing before we can leave the house. I'm not one of those high maintenance women, but I am a woman. I need more than a shower and a change of clothes to be ready.

But yesterday I was so touched that he would do this for me and so worried about getting there on time that I left as is. I told my husband what was happening as I rushed around looking for keys and shoes and ...what was the other thing? The kapo! Better not forget that. (It's sort of a clamp for the strings, if you're curious.)

I didn't think it would matter what I looked like, anyway. I wasn't auditioning.

I don't know anything about this show. I've heard that it's like American Idol but that anyone of any age with any talent can audition. Jamie told me on the phone that he heard about it on the radio and that they were looking for guitar players in particular.

We met outside the George R Brown Convention Center in downtown Houston and went inside. Jamie already had his paperwork filled out and handed me a release form.

Wait. Release form? It said I could wind up on camera. Great. But I signed the thing anyway, knowing I had little chance of being on TV.

We each got a wristband. Jamie's was blue for 'talent', mine was red for 'friend or family of talent' (in other words, NO talent). We were checked out by security and then sent upstairs.

Another checkpoint. Jamie had to turn in his paperwork to one of the staff members sitting behind a long table. We were directed to room 370. As we looked for signs, we passed people sitting on the carpeted floor, reading, talking on cellphones or rehearsing.

We finally found our room and walked in to a mob scene. The room was large and filled with randomly scattered chairs. Way over to the left, a camera sat on a tripod in front of these big white screens. Bright lights illuminated a half circle of chairs. Obviously some interviews were going to be conducted over there.

We found a couple of empty seats and sat down to wait for Jamie's number to be called. We took in the scene. Posters for the show dotted every wall. Smaller signs declared,"No photography." Damn! That hurts a blogger, but I complied. Believe me, I don't want to be sued by a show this big.

It was probably around 6:00pm when we first took those seats. It was around 10:00 when we left them. (And we waited for another hour after that!) During the time in between, we listened to singers warm up their throats, watched dancers stretch and cheered every time another group was called to "follow me!"
They filmed one TV promo with a woman whose dog did tricks. He chomped down on a Frisbee while she spun him around and then she said, "We've got talent!!" The rest of us cheered.

Occasionally, some random person would be interviewed. Once, a group walked into the room and tried to squeeze behind my chair. They stopped and I looked up from my text message to see a director telling them to try it again. They went back to the open doorway, waited, nd then walked in, passing behind me and finally sitting down.

They simply chatted with one another. No idea what that was about. Maybe they had a good audition and the show wanted some footage of them waiting to be called. I'm hoping if that winds up on TV you won't be able to tell that I needed a shower!

Thankfully, there were vendors in the lobby selling food, so we didn't starve. There were also bathrooms available, though eveytime I went in there someone was taking advantage of the acoustics to practice singing.

We saw people who obviously dressed to insure their fifteen minutes: some Elvises(one was Asian), a young woman in a purple velvet, Gothic-y gown and some forest creatures with a thing that looked like a long skinny hollowed out log that created a booming sound when blown into.

Jamie was one of the last to be called. It was after 11:00. He tells me he choked. He said his whole group was called into the room where there were two unknown judges. Though he wasn't nervous before, he became nervous when he started to play. He says his mind went blank at one point but he tried to cover.

He didn't get an answer on the spot. he was told that those who will be called back will be notified within 48 hours. But he feels certain he won't get the call. He's very disappointed in himself but he says he learned something. He's never gotten nervous playing guitar for friends and family but when he had to play in that room with the judges and the other contestants watching, he felt the pressure. He says maybe this is proof that being a performer isn't for him.

Well...on May 16th he's playing a solo in some local show. He doesn't know much about it yet, but one of the his teachers asked him to participate. I'll record it. Hope he gets over his stage jitters.

I don't care if he gets the call back for AGT. It was a fun experience and I got to spend time with my college-bound son. What a perfect Mother's Day gift.

TWO-HOUR SEASON PREMIERE OF AMERICA'S GOT TALENT ON JUNE 23 9/8C

Graduation Announcements

Can someone explain graduation announcements to me? We don't send them up north. I'm not being a jerk, I really don't understand their purpose. It's not an invitation. Am I supposed to send a gift when I get one of these in the mail?

My son is graduating from High School this year and I didn't order any announcements because I don't know what they're for. I don't' want people to feel obligated to send him a gift when we aren't' having a party. (We're doing a group thing at his friend's house.)

Did I make a big mistake by no ordering these things for my son?

Lake LBJ

We have an incredibly generous friend who has a second home on Lake LBJ, about an hour outside of Austin, TX. Gail was actually my husband's boss at one time. We've been going out to her lake house for years now. My boys first water-skied behind her boat, in fact.

We were invited to come on out this past weekend to enjoy some R&R and to see if we might want to buy a weekend place there ourselves. Gail's house is big and beautiful, much more house than we're looking for. But it's always a pleasure to be a guest there.

For instance, here's the second refrigerator, which she keeps well stocked with adult beverages:



All weekend we looked at houses in our meager price range by car and by boat. The weather was beautiful.



The bossy lady on our truck's GPS helped us find many addresses, but this one stumped her:



One of the neighborhoods we looked at had deer strolling around in people's yards.



Lake LBJ is in the Hill Country, one of the most beautiful areas in Texas.



And Austin is a very cool city, so if we bought a weekend place on the lake and kept it for our retirement, I think we could be happy there.



The only problem is tha I'm having trouble letting go of the idea of a beach house. If you've been reading here for a while, you know that we were in the market for a house right on the beach near Galveston. We were going to buy it with friends and rent it out but also use it ourselves when it was empty.



We were weeks away from making an offer when Hurricane Ike swept through and wiped out everything on Bolivar Peninsula, where we'd been looking. (FYI: I don't know why, but news about the devastation there has been pretty hush-hush. Trust me- hundreds, maybe thousands of people died and entire towns were swept out to sea. I've been there. But that's another blog.)

Beach houses were A LOT cheaper than the lake houses we looked at. It was sobering to see what we could afford on the lake. From what I've gathered, Texans like to visit the beach but would rather live on a lake, if given the choice. Perhaps it has to do with those pesky hurricanes?

As you can see by my photos the wildflowers are spectacular this time of year. Bluebonnets were out in all their glory, though I think being the state flower has gone to their heads. They're protected. You'll be fined if you get caught picking them.

So they just grow everywhere, even in the middle of my neighbor's lawn. You just know they're thinking, "That's right. I'm smack dab in the middle of the grass. Whatcha gonna DO about it?" I'm kidding. They're beautiful and can grow wherever they want to as far as I'm concerned.

I just read this over and I think it sounds pretty snooty- us looking for a second house on the water somewhere when people are losing their jobs in this terrible economy. It's something we've been saving for for a long time. We've made sacrifices since we first got married so that we could have this one day. And it's the house we'll move into when we retire.

All of that aside, it was a lovely weekend. We left the cares of everyday life behind for a few days. Unfortunately, it was all here waiting for us when we got home. *sigh*

When Henry Met Shelly

I was getting dressed upstairs today when I heard Henry going out of his mind barking out in the backyard. That's not unusual. If a squirrel dares to set paw on his property, he's on it: "Bark! Get out! Bark! This is my house!"

But usually the tirade ends when the squirrel disappears over the fence. I've seen Henry bark persistently at a new lawn chair or a plastic bag, so I knew that kind of thing was a possibility.

The thing is, my husband was downstairs. He wasn't feeling well. Still, I knew he was well enough to get up and bring the dog into the house. He worries about annoying the neighbors.

When I got downstairs, Greg told me that Henry had found a turtle out in the grass. He said when he tried to pick up Henry to bring him inside, he snarled at him. Greg wasn't in any mood to deal with a canine attitude, so he told me I'd have to deal with the situation.

We live near two small ponds. Every now and then a little critter from down that-away will wind up in somebody's yard. When we first moved here, the 'little' critter was a 500 pound alligator who found it's way on to our neighbor's property!!

The alligators have pretty much moved on since all the lots now have houses on them, but we'll get a duck or a snake on occasion. Today it was this poor little turtle that I named Shelly.



I scooped Shelly up into a Tupperware container, clicked Henry's leash on to his collar and off we went to the pond. I was worried that Henry might go after Shelly when I put the turtle down by the water, but he completely forgot about that hard-shelled elusive prey when he saw the ducks.



Those ducks never knew what hit 'em. No, actually, Henry's the one who got a little surprise. He took off after them, forgetting that he was on a leash. The ducks simply took to the air, flying off to safety while Henry flew into the air at the end of his leash.

Meanwhile, Shelly quietly slipped into the water:

Somehow, I coaxed the crazy dog home, where he insisted on going back into the yard. Moments later, he barked to be let in. In his mouth he carried a dead bird.

*sigh* He didn't get in.

Beads! Glorious Beads!

I've been going through my old columns from the paper I wrote for and thought I'd share one here:

By Caryl
11.14.05

Hi, my name is Caryl and I'm a beadaholic.

It all started out innocently enough. I was visiting my sister and her family, looking forward to helping with my niece's slumber party. "What can I do?" I offered. I was handed a big bowl of assorted beads and asked to pick out the tiny pins that had somehow gotten mixed in.

And so it began. Little did I know that simple task would develop into an obsession. Beads! Glorious beads!

As I sat that night, scooping up handfuls of the tiny, colorful spheres, noticing the way some caught the light and how various shades of color worked together, it became almost hypnotic. I separated out the pins, but found myself putting aside favorite beads as well, wondering what I could make with them.

When I finally looked up, the girls were asleep all around me in their sleeping bags and my sister was cleaning the kitchen. Oh, Devil Beads! I had been lured away by their beauty and I was theirs.

Back home, I began visiting craft stores, comparing prices and learning about jewelry making. I scored some exceptional supplies online. As I got deeper into the process of stringing and gluing, wayward beads showed up in my car, between the cushions of the couch and in my husband's lunch. The carpets had to be inspected before I vacuumed to prevent sucking up one of my precious little beauties.

Finally I had a thought that maybe I could sell some of this stuff. I was making more bracelets, earrings, necklaces, key chains, ornaments and beaded dog bowls than I could use in my lifetime. So, I took a deep breath and signed up for my church's annual Arts and Crafts Bazaar.

I must admit I'm a little scared. This is no rummage sale. The New Hope Bazaar has vendors who do this kind of thing for a living. I don't want to become a laughing stock at the next bell choir rehearsal. Despite my worries, I'm plodding on. It's something me and my beads have got to do.

So now that I've made this leap from closet beader to entrepreneur, I need a name. No biggie, I'm a writer, after all. I closed my eyes and allowed years of word play to fly into action!

I mulled over the words that describe what I'll be selling and tried a little word-play. "Caryl's Crafts", "One Crafty Mother," "Bling", "Bling Yourself," "Beads, Beading, Beadier," "Beader's Digest", "Bead My Love", "Refried Beads". Wait. What?

Not as easy as I thought it would be. So here I am, days away from the big bazaar and still no name. I'll think of something, but in the meantime I'm beading for my life. It's all I can think of as I rush to be ready.

The other day my son asked what was for dinner as I slid a soccer ball bead onto the black imitation leather cording I pinched in my fingers. I answered, "Franks and beads." Maybe I should look for a twelve-step program.

Springsteen Concert Epilogue

Photo by Frank Casimiro Apr. 8, 2009 - Houston, TX, USA - Bruce Springsteen performs in concert with the E Street Band at the Toyota Center in Houston, Texas, April 8, 2009. Houston is the fifth stop during the first leg of the 2009 Working On A Dream Tour.

When I wrote my recap of the Bruce Springsteen concert, I went into google images to find some photos from the show to include. I came across a few shots which were amazing visually, but which also helped me tell the story.

I got an e-mail from the photographer, politely asking me to remove them due to copyright infringements. I did. I understood and was fine with it. (OK, there was a twinge of sadness as I deleted them! They were great shots.)

Yesterday, he wrote me again apologizing in case he had been too harsh (he wasn't) and offering the same three photos for my blog with his name imprinted on them. I thought that was pretty generous of him.


Image © Frank Casimiro Apr. 8, 2009

He also wrote that he shot the Texas leg of the tour for Backstreets magazine and Bruce Springsteen. His images are currently on http://www.backstreets.com./ on the setlist page and on Bruce's site at http://www.brucespringsteen.com./


Image © Frank Casimiro Apr. 8, 2009

I told my husband that that sounds like the coolest job on the planet but he won't let me run off and do it. (Never mind the fact that I can barely take photos with my camera phone.)

Check out some of Frank's other concert imagery at: http://www.zeppzone.com/entertainment./ But please, if you go to any of the links I provided here, don't post his photos anywhere without permission. :)