Catching up . . .

Ironically, one of my goals for myself for 2012 (not a full-out "resolution" - just a goal.  I like to set the bar low . . .) was to be better about posting at least three times a week on here.  Unfortunately, I then came down with the worst case of bronchitis and/or tuberculosis and/or the plague that put me out of commission for a good week and a half.  THEN I had two back-to-back trials that I had to work on so my attention was focused elsewhere.  And then after THAT I just got plain lazy and uninspired.

Don't judge me. 

Since it's been so long since we've chatted, I feel like I have a lot to catch you up on.  So get comfortable and focus all your attention on me, pleaseandthankyou . . .

I've decided that there is an epidemic of the misuse of "lol" in the world today.  Have you noticed it?  People text things like "It was so good to see you today lol" or "Oh my gosh - I love your new haircut lol!"  Wait - what?  I don't understand.  I mean, are you being sarcastic?  Are you mocking me?  What's wrong with my haircut??  Does it make me look fat????  And just like that, a nice text from a friend turns into life-altering paranoia.  All because someone mishandled a "laugh out loud."  What a shame.  I mean, the only time you should use "lol" is to indicate that something was funny - like a joke or anything that I text you (because I'm always HILARIOUS, of course.) And you should NEVER jam-pack a bunch of lols into one poorly punctuated thought like so: "We need to get lunch soon lol maybe fajitas lol we need to catch up lol." Either you are misusing the lol or you are suffering from some sort of clinical hysteria.  Either way, please get help. 

lol.

I've been watching a LOT of HGTV lately - and I do mean a LOT.  Sometimes it's because it's interesting and I want to see how the redecorated room turns out.  And sometimes it's because I've been watching it for 2 hours and my brain has disengaged so I can't do anything but stare and drool.  BUT all this TV time has had a curious effect on me - I'm now super-motivated to do projects around my house.  And it's quite unusual for me to have that reaction.  Normally, I'm the type who will watch a show like Hoarders and, rather than getting the urge to clean and scrub my house, I look around at my shoes on the floor and the dishes in the sink and pat myself on the back for not having dead cats in my living room or 100 boxes of dish detergent in my garage.  But, for some reason, when I watch HGTV I want to re-paint my bedroom, rip out my kitchen counters, and find a chair on the side of the road and reupholster it.  Buuuuuuut so far all I've done is hang some peg board in my closet and replace light bulbs. 

Baby steps, people.  Baby steps.

My sister Erin recently watched a documentary called "Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead" which is about two men who do a 60 day juice fast and end up with amazing medical benefits, including weight loss.  Erin watched it and got totally inspired by the story of these two men so she decided to do a 30-day juice fast.  I gave her a hard time for being so easily influenced by a movie but I told her that I'd support her by joining her for a 15 day juice fast.  Then I decided to watch the documentary, too, so that I'd know what I was getting myself into aaaaaaaand, before I knew it, I was crying over the success of these two men and had vowed to do a juice fast for 40 days.  I don't know what happened.

Clearly, I need to stop watching TV.

Okay, that's enough about me.  I want to hear about you, too, because I care about you lol.

Uh huuuuuuuh . . . now you're paranoid, too, aren't you?

An oldie but goodie . . .

I didn't have time to blog tonight but, since I don't want December to keep passing me by without any good holiday posts, I thought I would re-post one that I did last year about Christmas songs.  I'd like to say that I'm posting it by popular demand but, really, I'm re-posting it because my mom asked me to.  She loved this one and, since she provides half my blogging material, I thought I would oblige her!!

So read this one from this time last year . . . and have a great Thursday!!


Fa la law la law la law law law

What is there NOT to love at Christmastime?? The colors, the lights, the fun wrapping papers, the decorations, the food, the Christmas cheer . . . it's all so wonderful. But I have to say that my favorite part about this time of year is the music. I love - L.O.V.E. - love Christmas music. Like to an annoying degree. If you ever happen to be standing next to me when Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You" comes on, you'll see what I mean. And if there happens to be a brush in the vicinity that I can use as a microphone, forget it . . .

But I've discovered something interesting about Christmas music. As you grow up, you start actually paying attention to and understanding the words that you're singing. And that can open your eyes and change the way you feel about the songs that you've loved all your life. Take "The Twelve Days of Christmas," for example. I grew up singing that song with gusto - especially the "fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive golden rings" part. But now that I'm older, I can't help but think to myself "that guy is the WORST 'true love' EVER." Seriously. I mean, if I had been his girlfriend, that song would be called "The first day of Christmas" because I would have left with my partridge in a pear tree and cut my losses. I have no idea why that girl stuck around for the 12 pipers piping. She's either a better woman than I or does not know about eharmony.

Then, to make matters worse, I went to law school. See - law school ruins your brain and changes the way you see the world. You hardly know it's happening, but happen it does. One day you're driving down the road and you see a car accident and you think to yourself "Oh, I hope that no one's hurt." And the next day, you're driving down the road and you see an accident and you throw your business card out the window. That's how it works. Subtly but surely, law school changes you so that, without even thinking about it, you're spotting potential legal issues that pop up around you. It's a gift and curse. But at Christmastime - with my beloved Christmas music - it's a curse . . .


I'll Be Home For Christmas . . .

I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents under the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light beams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams

This is a textbook breach of contract case - will he or will he NOT be home for Christmas? I mean, he clearly committed because he says he's coming home and we can count on him. He even goes so far as to require us to prepare for his homecoming by getting snow (a difficult and, I would imagine, expensive feat), mistletoe, and placing presents under the tree. Then, after we have relied upon his representation and incurred these expenses, he inexplicably backpedals and says he'll be home, even if it's only in his dreams. Well, that wasn't the deal buddy. Be home for Christmas or you'll be hearing from my lawyer.


I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus . . .

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night
She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peep
She thought that I was tucked up
In my bedroom, fast asleep

Then I saw Mommy tickle Santa (tickle, tickle, Santa Claus) Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night

Some people call this a Christmas song. I call it "Exhibit A" in "Daddy's" subsequent divorce and custody proceeding . . .

Santa Claus Is Coming to Town . . .

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
He's making a list
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out Who's naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town
He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!

I know that these lyrics help kids walk the straight and narrow each year around Christmastime, I do. I get it. But, seriously - it's a little creepy, isn't it? And I believe that it qualifies as a stalking offense in Texas. I mean, maybe there are no laws about watching people when they're sleeping in the North Pole, but we do things a little differently down here, my friend. So keep your peepers to yourself or you'll get your Miranda warnings when you DO come to town . . .


We Wish You a Merry Christmas . . .

We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
We wish you a merry Christmas
And a happy New Year.
Glad tidings we bring
To you and your kin;
Glad tidings for Christmas
And a happy New Year!

So bring us some figgy pudding
So bring us some figgy pudding
So bring us some figgy pudding
Please bring it right here!
Glad tidings we bring
To you and your kin;
Glad tidings for Christmas
And a happy New Year!

We won't go until we get some
We won't go until we get some
We won't go until we get some
So bring it out here!
Glad tidings we bring
To you and your kin;
Glad tidings for Christmas
And a happy New Year!

These are either the worst Christmas guests ever or they are burglarizing your home. I think it may be the latter. First, they earn your trust and gain entry into your home by wishing you a Merry Christmas - who wouldn't be disarmed by such a congenial act of well-wishing? Then, as soon as you drop your guard, BAM! they start demanding some of your figgy pudding. And before you can even respond to their rude manners, BAM! they're extorting you by refusing to leave until you meet their demands. It's a Christmas crime that is not entirely uncommon. But don't worry - we'll get these guys and file trespassing and extortion charges against them. Let's just hope there's some DNA evidence in that figgy pudding . . .


Baby It's Cold Outside . . .

I simply must go - Baby, it's cold outside
The answer is no - Ooh baby, it's cold outside
This welcome has been - I'm lucky that you dropped in
So nice and warm -- Look out the window at that storm
My sister will be suspicious - Man, your lips look so delicious
My brother will be there at the door - Waves upon a tropical shore
My maiden aunt's mind is vicious - Gosh your lips look delicious
Well maybe just a half a drink more - Never such a blizzard before

I've got to go home - Oh, baby, you'll freeze out there
Say, lend me your comb - It's up to your knees out there
You've really been grand - Your eyes are like starlight now
But don't you see - How can you do this thing to me
There's bound to be talk tomorrow - Making my life long sorrow
At least there will be plenty implied - If you caught pneumonia and died
I really can't stay - Get over that old out
Ahh, but it's cold outside

Okay - let me say at the outset that this is one of my favorite songs, especially the version from Elf. But, let's be honest - this song is just a verse and a chorus away from a date rape . . .


So there you have it - that's what law school has done to me. Sometimes I wish I could stop the law school curse and re-live those carefree days of singing without analyzing and issue-spotting. But, alas, I cannot. But don't worry, I still find lots of joy in singing along with every Christmas song I hear during the season.

Especially "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" . . .

Misfit Decorations

A few weekends ago, I was out with my mom shopping for a few new Christmas decorations.  It's always interesting to see the different styles of Christmas decorations out there - there is definitely something for everyone.  But this year, as we walked through the store, I was struck by the strange decorations that were for sale.  They seemed less like cute things you'd want in your house and more like escapees from the Island of Misfit Decorations.  I'm just not sure who is buying these particular items.

Like this super classic decoration.  I call it "Happy hoo hoo ha ha."  

That's supposed to sound like a monkey.  Say it again now that you know - hiLARious, right??  Thought so . . .

Then we have the two angels who got kicked out of the band because they couldn't quite figure out what to do with the horns . . .

I call them "Angels we have NOT heard on high . . ."

Or the Santa who was recently tortured on the rack . . .

The fact that he survived at all is a Christmas miracle.  The fact that he celebrated survival with a snowflake hat is a shame.

And what Christmas would be complete without a witch-like figurine, stretching her bony fingers toward you, beckoning you to come closer?

If she asks you if you want to join her for Christmas dinner, run.

I think this poor kid got a little too close to the witch aaaaaaaaaaaaand ended up atop random kitchen items.  This is a great decoration idea, don't you agree?  I don't know about YOU but nothing puts ME in the holiday spirit quite like a kid's head on top of a strainer with a freakin' whisk sticking out of his side. 

I call this next one "Joy to the World" because, lest you get carried away with happiness and fun this season, this little guy has a golden tear to bring you back down to Earth.  And, frankly, it's about time someone created this Christmas decoration.  I mean, sometimes we all need to be reminded that living on top of a teapot sucks.  Am I right or am I right?

Finally, my favorite . . .

I imagine this is what Santa would look like if he fell off his sleigh somewhere over the Alaskan wilderness and had to survive in the wild for 30 years.  Don't you want him on YOUR mantel with that wild, desperate look in his eyes? Just make sure you don't leave cookies out for him.  He prefers squirrel.  Medium rare.

Seriously - I really don't understand who is buying these things. 

Unless of course YOU have them in YOUR house, in which case they are lovely. Just looooooovely.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves . . .

My mom and I were out shopping for Christmas decorations the other day and, as we were pulling out of one parking lot, we noticed this banner on a local Chinese restaurant:

The potential customer in me appreciates their confidence - way to declare yourselves the best of 2012 before we've gotten there!!  Way to believe in yourselves!!  I like it!!  I'll take a vegetable fried rice to go!!

The lawyer in me scowls and wants to advise them that declaring yourself the best of a year that has not yet arrived is false advertising at best.  Good thing I always have some business cards on me.  

But both the customer and lawyer in me give way to the editor in me who just wishes that they had used the same dang font for that last 2 . . .

Frankly, it's ruined 2012 for me now.

Yours.

My mom and our friend Stephanie came over this weekend to help me decorate my house for Christmas.  And by "help me" I mean "do it for me."  Don't judge me - I know my limits.  Stephanie, on the other hand, has no limits.  She is a flight attendant who also happens to be a very talented decorator so she makes the rounds in early December and helps all the Palmore girls get their houses looking tip top.  And we love her for it!!

Erin came over with my nieces Savannah (9) and Avery (6) to hang out with us while "we" decorated.  Around lunchtime, Erin and I ran to Chick-Fil-A to pick lunch up for everyone and, when we got back, I noticed that Gustavo's truck was in front of my house.

And that was more exciting than the waffle fries in my bag . . .

When we got inside, I saw Gustavo mowing in the back yard.  And by "saw" I  mean "stared at for a slightly creepy amount of time."  Savannah and Avery were outside watching him mow because even THEY know a good thing when they see it.  Then they ran back in, shouting "CATCHY!!!!  GUSTAAAAAAAAAVO IS HEEEEEEEEERE!!!"  That's when we had this conversation:

Savannah: Catchy, guess what??
Me: What??
Savannah: While you were gone, Stephanie said that Gustavo was GORGEOUS!
Me: She did??
Savannah: Yes!! [wide-eyed and smiling]
Me: Oh my!!  [faking a serious tone] Back off, Steph.  He's MINE.
Stephanie: [Laughing]  I know!!  I know!!
Avery: Catchy, he really IS yours!  You know why?
Me: Why??
Avery: Because you don't even HAVE a "yours!"

True, Avery.  Very true.

But at least I have my waffle fries!!

Yo, Adrian!

Well, unfortunately, my Thanksgiving weekend was overshadowed by a general feeling of nausea and some pretty awesome stomach cramping that lasted from Wednesday morning to Saturday afternoon.  I think it was a case of food poisoning from a hot dog that I ate at the movie theater on Tuesday night.  Since I woke up feeling nauseated on Wednesday morning and want to throw up every time I think of hot dogs, I think my theory makes sense.  My sisters think food poisoning wouldn't have lasted all weekend so they think that I was dealing with a stomach bug of sorts.  My mom, ever cautious and hestitant to make rash conclusions, thinks I was suffering from massive organ failure.

Agree to disagree, Mom.

So I wasn't able to really enjoy the TASTE of my mom's delicious turkey and dressing.  I mean, I ate some but it just doesn't taste the same when you're concentrating on not puking it all up, you know?  So I spent Thanksgiving being thankful that I could at least enjoy the SMELL of my mom's great cooking.  It stinks that I missed out on all the yummies but no biggie, right?  It's not like Thanksgiving only comes around once a year or anything . . . 

Stupid hot dog.

ANYWAY, I thought I'd tell you about a classic Nora moment from this weekend.  We were talking about the new Mission Impossible movie coming out soon and this is how that conversation unfolded:

Erin: Matt hasn't seen ANY of the Mission Impossible movies.  So I'm thinking that it might be fun to have a Mission Impossible marathon before the next one comes out.
Tammy: I'm in!
Me: [to Matt] You haven't seen ANY of them??
Matt: Nope.  Not one.
Mom: Wow! 
Erin: I know!
Mom: Well, I guess I get that.  I've never seen any of the Rocky movies.
All: WHAT??
Tammy: You've never seen ANY of them??
Mom: Nope.
Erin: That's unacceptable.
Mom: I know!  But I know all the famous lines from them.
Me: [Oh, this should be good . . .]
Mom: You know, like "Heeeeeeey, Sylviaaaaaa!"
[stunned silence followed by silent, hysterical laughter]
Matt: Wow.  She needs to leave.  Or I need to leave.  Either way, somebody's leaving.

So, needless to say, we are going to schedule a Rocky marathon, STAT. 

Before she embarrasses us all by calling Rocky the Italian Mustang or something . . .

Sew much for punctuation . . .

My friend Melissa sent me this picture the other day.  I tried to post it last night but I kept convulsing each time I looked at it, much less tried to write about it.  So I thought I'd try it tonight . . .

Deep breath . . .

So . . . much . . . must . . . breathe . . .

Girl's?  Supply's?  THURDAY's?  [gasp]  I feel a spasm coming on.

There should be some sort of fine for posting a sign like this one.  I'm serious.  Someone needs to find this lady and charge HER 10 o'clock dollars . . .