The Catherine Chronicles

Betrayed

2012-02-02T00:45:00.002-06:00

I've told y'all before that I'm the greatest aunt who ever lived but I think it bears repeating. Mainly because I like repeating it.

ANYWAY . . . as soon as my nieces and nephew could each talk, I employed my knowledge about Pavlovian techniques and taught them to say that I was their favorite aunt. I'd ask them "Who's your favorite aunt?" and they'd yell "CATCHY!!!!" They would say it so enthusiastically and without any hesitation that my sisters soon realized that they could never compete for that title and conceded it to me. So today I am still the reigning and undisputed Favorite Aunt in my family.

That's what made tonight so painful.

My 11-year-old niece Emma called me on video chat from her iPod tonight and we talked about what she did today, what she'd be doing tomorrow, and what her high score is in Temple Run (451,024 for those of you who are familiar with the game . . .). You know - the kinds of things that nieces and favorite aunts talk about. That's when the conversation went terribly and horribly awry:

Emma: Catchy, guess what?
Me: What?
Emma: I've been really funny lately with my friends.
Me: I bet you have!
Emma: Yeah - I've been really funny. You know - like Auntie Erin.
Me: [choking on my water] Wait - WHAT did you just say?
Emma: I've been funny like Auntie Erin.
Me: Wait a second! Why does SHE get to be the funny one??
Emma: [silence]
Me: [jaw dropped dramatically] IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm funny, tooooooooooooooo!!
Emma: [nervous giggling]
Me: What a rip off.

I feel so betrayed!!

Then later, I made the mistake of telling Erin what Emma had said and she rubbed it in as many times as she could during our conversation. Like so . . .

Me: Oh, did you hear that Melissa McCarthy got an Oscar nomination for Bridesmaids??
Erin: Yeah! Good for her.
Me: Right? I think it's awesome! But I'm so surprised that she got an OSCAR nomination for that movie.
Erin: Well, but I think those really funny roles are hard to do so it's about time that people are getting recognized for them.
Me: I know. She WAS hilarious. But an Oscar nomination??
Erin: Well, you just don't understand that level of comedy. Emma and I do, though . . .
Me: Shut up.

So clearly I need to start working on my reputation as a funny aunt.

Right after I get this knife out of my unfunny back . . .

Catching up . . .

2012-01-30T00:56:00.000-06:00

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 . . .

2011-12-22T01:10:00.001-06:00

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

2011-12-20T02:59:00.001-06:00

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 . . .

2011-12-08T00:00:00.000-06:00

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.

2011-12-05T00:00:00.000-06:00

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!

2011-11-28T00:00:00.000-06:00

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 . . .

2011-11-22T00:13:00.001-06:00

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 . . .

Ironic exploration

2011-11-16T00:40:00.001-06:00

My friend Tom sent me this picture from his iPhone . . .

Maybe they should start by "explorating" some of those McGraw-Hill textbooks I studied in high school . . .?

Geez.

A Siri-ous relationship

2011-11-14T00:00:00.000-06:00

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Oh, sorry - it's been so long since I actually typed on this thing that I kinda forgot how to do it. But I think it's coming back to me now . . .

So I've been a BIT busy lately with work and have missed out on catching up with all of you. How have you been?? Anything exciting going on? How's your family doing?

Okay, enough about you . . . let's talk about me.

Since my last post, something very important has happened to me and I think that you should know about it. I mean, you all ARE very important to me and you should be kept in the loop when I have big, life-changing events like this one. No - I haven't changed jobs or married Gustavo or anything mundane like that. No, this news is even bigger than that: I finally got an iPhone. [pause to allow you time to cheer loudly]

When my new iPhone arrived in the mail, my coolness level increased significantly. On a hunch, I checked to see if the number of friends on my facebook had doubled in response but, alas, I found that it had not. "No worries," I thought to myself, "I'm too cool for those people now, anyway." I put all my contacts in, sent taunting texts to various friends who still have Blackberries, and started to really play around with my new piece of awesomeness.

The new iPhone has a feature called Siri and she's supposed to be like your own personal assistant. She understands what you're saying and she speaks back to you, which is kinda fun. You can say things like "Schedule a doctor's appointment tomorrow at 9 am" and she will do it for you. She'll even tell you if that appointment conflicts with an existing appointment. You can say "Text mom" and she will ask you what you'd like to say to your mom. Then she'll send your text for you. You can say "remind me to call Bob when I get home" and, when you pull into your driveway, she gives you a reminder. You can even ask her where to hide a dead body and she'll ask you if you want a swamp or a reservoir. (Don't worry - I discovered that one because my brother-in-law saw it on Twitter . . .). It's crazy. But I must confess that I spend most of my time seeing what she'll say to other random stuff - like just regular conversational stuff. It's very entertaining. And I'm always surprised at the clever answers the programmers have come up with. For instance, here is a conversation I might have with my phone, including Siri's ACTUAL answers:

Me: What do you look like?
Siri: In the cloud, no one cares what you look like.
Me: How old are you?
Siri: I don't see why that should matter, Catherine.
Me: [geeeeeeez - sensitive much?!] Do I need an umbrella tomorrow?
Siri: Checking my sources . . . There is no rain in the forecast for tomorrow.
Me: I'm hungry for dinner.
Siri: I've found a number of restaurants fairly close to you. [displaying list of restaurants]
Me: I'm in the mood for Mexican.
Siri: I found a number of Mexican restaurants . . . 22 of them are fairly close to you.
Me: [22?? I'm NEVER moving . . .] Thank you.
Siri: Just doing my job.
Me: Why hasn't Gustavo declared his undying love for me?
Siri: Catherine, I don't understand "Why hasn't Gustavo declared his undying love for me?"
Me: Neither do I, Siri. Neither do I. [pause] Siri, I need a man.
Siri: Checking your location . . .
Me: [wait . . . whaaaaaaat??? Is it possible that Siri will be a freakin' miracle worker???]
Siri: I didn't find any dating services.
Me: [sigh] I'm disappointed in you.
Siri: If you say so.
Me: I don't like your attitude.
Siri: Noted.
Me: Sorry.
Siri: It's okay, Catherine. Really.
Me: I love you.
Siri: You are the wind beneath my wings.
Me: No really - I love you.
Siri: I bet you say that to all your apple products.
Me: Tell me a joke.
Siri: I can't. I always forget the punch line.
Me: [fine, then I'll do it . . .] Knock knock . . .
Siri: Knock knock. Who's there? Catherine. Catherine who? Catherine, I don't do knock knock jokes.
Me: You're pretty funny.
Siri: Was it something I said?
Me: I don't appreciate sarcasm.
Siri: Okay, you don't then.
Me: I'm tired.
Siri: I hope you're not driving.
Me: Goodnight.
Siri: Goodnight, Catherine.

Yeah, I know I know - I really DO need a man . . .

Dog days

2011-10-18T00:50:00.000-05:00

My dog has been driving me crazy lately because he has apparently developed separation anxiety. It's so frustrating because this has come out of nowhere - one day he obediently goes in the kitchen when I leave like always, and the next he's growling and acting like I beat him and rob little old ladies. I really don't get it. I mean, I know I'm pretty amazing. No - strike that . . . I'm FABULOUS. But I still don't understand why he feels like he can't live without me while I run to the store. Why he has to go crazy, bark, aaaaaaaand then pee on the kitchen floor. I just don't get it.

So I have mopped the floor more in the last few months than I have in my entire life and it's driving me crazy. Luckily for my dog, though, mopping is very therapeutic so it keeps me from strangling him. As I'm mopping, I think about how I'll probably NEVER understand the way a dog's mind works.

For instance . . .

We were out walking the other day and a lady who was walking toward us stopped me to tell me how cute he was. As she was going on and on about his preciousness, he disinterestedly hiked his leg and took care of his business. That's some major self-confidence. I mean, when someone is going on and on about how cute I am (which, believe me, happens ALL the time . . .), I smile my best smile and try to look the part so that nothing that I do will change their opinion. Not my dog. He looks at the lady, wags his tail, and says "You think I'm cute just STANDING here? Check THIS out, toots . . ."

I kinda wish I were more like that.

And then there's the way he greets people when they come over. I mean, I think I'm a pretty good hostess, you know? I make people feel welcome, I offer them a drink or something to eat, I make sure they're comfortable, and I pat myself on the back for being the hostess with the mostest. Meanwhile, my dog is running laps around the dining table because he can't contain his excitement over their arrival. He'll take a break just long enough to do a little dance on his hind two feet so that he can get his little head high enough for them to pet him and then he's off to the races again. Now THAT'S how you make people feel important, right?

I wish I were more like that.

And he's not easily offended. He gets so excited to see me and tries to lick my face to show me affection and all I do is scrunch up my nose and tell him how bad his breath stinks. And he never feels rejected by that. If someone responded to me that way, I'd first apologize for trying to lick their face . . . and THEN I'd feel so rejected. But my dog never is - he just comes right back and tries to give me more kisses, bad breath and all. He just gets right up in my face and never stops trying to show me that he loves me.

Why can't I be more like that?

But I think the most impressive thing about him is that he absolutely FLIPS out for milk bones. Milk bones. A treat whose most flavorful ingredients are wheat flour and flaxseed. But when I open the cabinet where his treats are stored, he goes crazy. I mean, you'd think that I had given him a piece of cheesecake. The human equivalent of a milk bone is what? Maybe melba toast? Or rice cakes? If you tried to reward me for something good I'd done by giving me a rice cake, I'd smack your face and tell you your breath stinks.

So consider yourself warned. Because I'm not my dog.

I won't lick you affectionately and, frankly, I don't love you enough to run circles around my dining room table for you. I know that's a bummer. BUT, on the bright side, if you were to leave me alone to go buy a piece of cheesecake for me, I would NOT bark my head off and then pee on the kitchen floor.

So . . . why can't my dog be more like THAT?

Walking with Nora.

2011-10-04T00:00:00.001-05:00

This weekend I found myself in Chicago. You know - the Windy City. Chi-Town. The City of Big Shoulders. I took a break from my j-

What? Yeah, I know - that's such a weird nickname, isn't it? I have no idea where it comes from - I didn't see a particularly large number of Big Shoulders while I was there so your guess is as good as mine. Frankly, I think it's a bit offensive. But it apparently IS a nickname for Chicago, at least according to Wikipedia. I probably should have just left that one off, though, huh? Let me start over, okay?

Ready?

[Ahem]

This weekend I found myself in Chicago. You know - the Windy City. Chi-Town. I took a break from my job and headed north to some cooler, breezier weather and, let me tell you, it did wonders for my stress level AND my hair . . .

The goal of our little trip was to de-stress and spend time with my mom's side of the family. And we had the greatest weekend. I really don't remember the last time I laughed as hard as I did with my aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was SO much fun. And, as usual, my mom provided me with a good little story to tell you . . .

My mom has always told us about how she used to have to walk to and from school uphill both ways in 10 feet of snow, blah, blah, blah. So this weekend, she decided that she wanted to take us on her old walk so that we could see how far she really had to go to get to and from school each day. My uncle dropped us off at the house where my mom grew up - which was pretty cool to see in person - and then we all started walking toward her elementary school, Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. We walked down her old street and up to a busy intersection where we turned right and started walking along the sidewalks that ran in front of the various businesses lining the busy street.

And thus began the long walk to my mom's old school.

As you can imagine, the neighborhood has changed in the intervening years - the old drug store where my mom used to stop and buy candy has long-since closed up and been replaced. Same with all the other businesses that my mom used to pass each day as a young school girl. Instead, we passed by several gay nightclubs and at least one shop that sold adult, ummmmm, items. In fact, the display in the window was like everything you'd need for a Bachelorette party, including something called a "Wiggly Wand." I'll spare you the description on that one and let you use your imagination. Unfortunately, we were already peering into the window of the shop before we realized what types of wares they were peddling. Before we pulled my mom away, she had already spotted said "Wiggly Wand." Fortunately, though, she hadn't really seen what it was. Phew, right?? Not so much. Because UNfortunately, she kept asking all of us questions like "What IS a Wiggly Wand?? I don't get it."

Because I didn't think that the authorities of the great city of Chicago would appreciate me curling up into the fetal position on their sidewalks, I just ignored my mom, giggled maturely with my sisters, and kept walking.

Then, as luck would have it, she caught a glimpse of a game called "Pin the Hose on the Fireman." Again - use your imaginations on that one. Fortunately, and for reasons unknown to me, she thought the game was called "Pin the Ponytail on the Fireman."

I know. I know. It made sense to HER, though.

Just as I was thanking to Good Lord that my mom had miraculously misread the name of the game, she started saying excitedly "We should go get one of those for the kiiiiiiiiiids!! They would think that's HILARIOUS! Pinning the ponytail on the fireman?? C'mon! They'd LOVE that!"

Frankly, I think I preferred it when she was asking about Wiggly Wands. There was less potential for CPS involvement.

We grabbed my mom by her elbows and quickly ushered her away, shielding her eyes from the "Shower Contest" advertisement in the window of a club we passed. Because, contrary to what the title might imply, the photo on the ad suggested that the contest was NOT about how efficiently you lather, rinse, and repeat. What a disappointment - I would have been a shoo-in for that one.

Finally, we got to Mt. Carmel and I had to admit that my mom had to walk a LONG way to get to school each morning. It's pretty amazing that she and her brothers and sisters made that long trek each morning as children - my how times have changed. Part of me wished I could wave a wand (but not of the wiggly variety) and be transported back in time to see my mom as a young girl standing in front of the steps of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. But, for a few minutes on Friday, I got to see at least a glimpse of what life was like for my mom back then. As we started walking up the steps to go inside the school, I looked at my mom and really took the moment in. And I have to say that it was pretty cool.

Uuuuuuntil she turned to me and said "We really SHOULD get one of those Pin the Ponytail on the Fireman games for the kids."

An impossible conversion.

2011-09-27T00:22:00.003-05:00

It seems like the topic has come up a lot lately so I thought I would go ahead and make my feelings known on a very important topic. This is bound to upset a lot of people. I know that. But I must get this off my chest once and for all . . .

I.

HATE.

SEAFOOD.

It's disgusting. And that goes for all kinds of fish, too. I really don't know why anyone eats it. And what's most amazing to me is that people seem so shocked when they find out that I don't like it. I am CONSTANTLY having conversations like this:

Friend: Oh my gosh - I'm so excited! I'm making my fried catfish tonight!!
Me: Yuck. [making mature face that's a cross between "I just ate a lemon" and "I just smelled poop."]
Friend: [dumbfounded] You don't like catfish??
Me: I don't like ANY fish.
Friend: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat???
Me: [resuming lemon/poop face]
Friend: Are you serious??
Me: Yeah. It's disgusting.
Friend: Well, you at least like shrimp, right?
Me: [lemon/poop face]
Friend: [gasp] Wha . . . WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???
Me: Gross.
Friend: Well, that's because you've never had my catfish.
Me: Well -
Friend: If you had my fried catfish, you'd LOVE fish.
Me: Ummm, I -
Friend: No. I'm TELLING you - you'd LOVE it.
Me: It's just that -
Friend: Next time you come over, I'm making fried catfish.
Me: Oh, then I'll never come ove-
Friend: Seriously. It will change your life.
Me: [lemon/poop]

What my well-meaning friends don't understand is that I have a VERY strong gag reflex when it comes to fish and seafood. So whenever anyone actually HAS forced me to try their catfish/shrimp/clam chowder/crab cakes/salmon, it ALWAYS ends with a huge, noisy, involuntary, eye-watering gag.

And then we're both embarrassed.

I know that lots of people like it. I know that YOU probably do. I know that it's ALLEGEDLY good for you and contains lots of good vitamins and oils and blah blah blah. But you might as well stop trying to convert me because it will never work. I just can't do it. And I have no desire to. Why? Well, I'm glad you asked. Allow me to share my top 5 reasons why I'll never become a fish eater:

1. Most fish smells like urine. It's true. You fish eaters swear it smells divine. But if you're not a fish person and the guy at the table behind you orders the salmon, you feel like you're downwind from a urinal the moment his entree arrives. You sit there trying to eat your steak-made-from-cow like any good Texan would and all you can think of are urine-related topics like "I'm out of toilet paper in the upstairs bathroom" or "I need to let the dog out" or "I need to drink more water so my urine doesn't EVER smell like that guy's dinner." Beef and chicken don't have that effect on people - they smell delicious and savory and much less like human waste. So what if beef clogs your arteries - at least it smells good while it's killing you. That's really all you can ask for in a food.

2. You have to de-poop shrimp. Do I really need to expound on this one?? I mean, I'm only two points into my list and I've already covered two digestive processes - that's disgusting. The minute I have to clean cow poop out of a rib-eye, I'll become a vegetarian . . .

3. Some fish is served with the scales still on it. Seriously? How can anyone eat that?? If someone plopped a chicken breast down in front of me with the feathers still on one side or gave me a New York strip steak with the hide still attached, I would gag and call the FDA. I do NOT think the standards should be any different for fish.

4. There's too much "fresh death." I have to give my friend Ashley's cousin credit for this one. We were standing around talking about why seafood is disgusting (he's my kind of people) and he said that he has a "no fresh death" rule. He went on to explain that he doesn't want to have to point to a lobster in a tank and say "I'll have that one" and then have it fished out and cooked for him. He wants it to spend some time being dead and frozen before it makes it to his plate. So that's why he prefers beef. I think this is a sound and well-thought-out rule and I agree whole-heartedly. I don't want to have to look my food in the eye before I eat it. I don't want to wonder if it got to say its goodbyes to the other lobsters in the tank before it got dropped in a pot of boiling water and then turned into a lobster roll. I just want a piece of meat pulled out of a fridge, grilled, and brought to me with some mashed potatoes and gravy. It's WAY less traumatic.

5. Crawfish. I know it's technically not "fish" but, since most people who eat fish also eat crawfish, I tend to lump them together. I really don't get crawfish - they sit on your plate, looking up at you most disturbingly with their beady little eyes and they smell like a cross between a sewer and a marina. I don't understand how anyone ever thought they would make good food. I mean, who saw that thing crawl out of ground and thought "You know what?? I bet that little sucker would be DELICIOUS boiled in some hot water with corn." And then WHO took it to the next level and said "I bet it would taste AWESOME to suck all the guts out of that little guy's head." I'll tell ya who did that . . . a fish eater, that's who.

And that's why I can NEVER be one of you people . . .

Now I know some of you might not agree with me and that's okay. But can we at least agree to disagree and perhaps call a truce? Here's my proposition: you promise me that you won't try to convert me to your disgusting ways and, in return, I won't say things like "Oh - you have a little poop in your teeth" when you're enjoying a nice shrimp salad.

[lemon/poop]

Deal?

Why pick a specialty?

2011-09-23T00:47:00.005-05:00

Somewhere, at some business-planning brainstorming session, SOMEONE thought this sounded like a good idea:

I'd love to know if their slogan was "Our music smokes the competition" but, unfortunately, they appear to be out of business so I'll never know. I guess we can no longer rely on them for songs and cigs.

But at least we can rely on them for irony . . .

Treu loev uses spellcheck . . .

2011-09-20T00:00:00.001-05:00

I hope you all haven't given up on me. Hopefully things at work will slow down soon and I'll actually get back into writing more regularly one of these days - these dang pervs need to give it a rest and give me a break! Can I get an Amen?!

ANYWAY . . .

In the meantime, since I don't have time to really write right now, I thought I'd share a photo with you each day. This first one is one that my mom just uncovered - it's from a road trip that we took as a family way back when I was in college . . .

Rnu, Michelle! Rnu!

Nora Dictionary updates . . .

2011-09-06T00:00:00.001-05:00

Hope everyone had a great Labor Day!! Mine was nice and relaxing. My sisters and their kids and I all decided to crash my mom's house and have a slumber party with her. It was super fun and the best part was that my mom made us a nice big breakfast this morning and spoiled us rotten, as usual.

So I thought I'd repay her by making fun of her on my blog.

It's been a long time since I updated my list of Noraisms and I really need to be better about doing that because it's a list that grows exponentially each day. If I don't stay on top of it, it could easily get away from me. So I thought I'd bring you up to speed with two conversations that we had today with my mom:

Mom: [to my brother-in-law Matt] I was having trouble figuring something out on my computer the other day so I took it up to the gmail store and they were able to fix it for me.
Matt: [confused look] The WHAT store?
Mom: The gmail store.
Matt: [still confused]
Me: Hey, Matt?
Matt: Yeah?
Me: She's talking about the APPLE store . . .
Matt: Wow.
Mom: Whatever.

And the OTHER one . . .

Matt: [talking about Pulp Fiction] Who was the guy they called "The Wolf?"
Erin: No idea.
Me: I don't even remember a character named "The Wolf."
Erin: Look it up on IMDB. [that's "internet movie database" for those who don't know . . .]
Matt: [pulling out his phone to look it up] WHAT is his name?
Tammy: [coming into the room and sitting down] Who?
Me: The guy who played "The Wolf" on Pulp Fiction??
Tammy: Harvey Keitel.
Matt: Yes! That's it!
Erin: Nice, Tam!
Mom: Tammy!! You're like our own personal OMIDBF!!!

So add these terms to your Nora Dictionary because they may come in handy at some point. I mean, you never know when you'll run into her at the mall and she'll ask you where the gmail store is. And without these updates to your dictionary, you might not know what the OMIDBF she's talking about . . .

Happy birthday to my daddy!!

2011-09-02T00:00:00.000-05:00

September 1st is a special day in my family. And not just because it's 23 days before my birthday (I have a list of things I'd like if you need gift ideas, by the way . . . ). No, September 1st is special to us because it is my sweet daddy's birthday.

And he would have been 67 today.

As most of you know, my dad passed away 5 years ago. Man - I hear myself say that number and I can't believe it's been that long. I honestly don't know how the world keeps turning without him in it. He was the kind of dad who could pull off cheesy one-liners in front of your friends but still be cool. The kind of dad who would scratch your back for 5 hours if you wanted him to and somehow his arm would never fall asleep. He was the kind of dad who would come upstairs to wake you up in the mornings and didn't mind if you asked for "five more minutes" 20 times - he'd just come back upstairs every few minutes like your own personal snooze button and never complain. He was the kind of dad who would come home with Luden's cough drops and a milkshake if he heard you weren't feeling well. He was the kind of dad who would watch your back-to-school fashion shows, even if the Cowboys were playing. And he was the kind of dad who leaves a huge hole when he passes away . . . nothing could ever take his place or fill that void. Not in a million years.

Wow - this is an uplifting blog so far . . .

My dad died just about a month before his 62nd birthday so, of course, when that day rolled around for us, we prepared for a very hard day. But my mom had a great idea that first year on how to make his birthday a happy day, rather than a sad one - she suggested that we go find people who do nice things for others - just like my dad always did - and give them a reward. So we headed up to the mall and handed $20 bills to people we saw doing things that reminded us of our dad - opening the door for others, letting someone go ahead of him on the escalator, or just being thoughtful to those around him. Then we all walked over to the Cheesecake Factory and talked about all the fun people we had found and given money to.

And we loved it so much that we've made it a tradition.

Our tradition has evolved just a bit over the years. Now we write out a card that talks about our dad and what we're doing to celebrate his birthday. This year, it said: "I lost my Dad (father-in-law/husband/grandpa) five years ago. He always inspired us to be thoughtful, kind and concerned with the needs of others. So every September 1st we celebrate his birthday by looking for people who possess the same qualities that made him so special to all who knew him. You did something today that reminded me of him and I wanted you to have this little treat so you would know I think you're special, too! Thanks for being part of my Dad's birthday celebration." Then we put a $20 bill in the card so that the person gets their reward and a little explanation for why they're getting it. Once we've got our money and our cards in our envelopes, we head up to the mall to go find our do-gooders. And once we all hand out our cards, we head over to eat somewhere and tell each other our stories from the evening. It's such a great way to celebrate my dad's birthday in a way that makes it a fun night that we all look forward to and enjoy. I think he would be proud.

So tonight, we continued our tradition. We met up at the mall, envelopes in hand, and immediately split up so that we could divide and conquer. The kids decided to walk the mall with me, of course, because I am the favorite aunt. And because I always buy them a cookie in the food court. But I'm sure it was MOSTLY because I'm the favorite aunt. You just can't over think it . . .

ANYWAY . . . the kids and I took off on our journey to find someone worthy of our envelopes. We walked up the mall. We walked down the mall. We walked upstairs. We walked downstairs. And all we found was a whole lotta nothin'. So we decided to go outside to this little outdoor shopping area that's part of the mall and over to Barnes & Noble. We had found a nice lady there last year so the kids kept saying "We need to go to Barnes & Noble because there are just nice people EVERYWHERE over there!" So we headed that way and walked around the store hoping to find someone doing something nice. Unfortunately, all we found was a manager who seemed to be watching us suspiciously. We walked around a while but had no luck so the kids decided we should head back over to the main part of the mall. On our way out the door, a lady held the door for us so Ben and Avery immediately wanted to give her their shared card. So we turned around to give her her prize. Unfortunately, though, she was on her phone so I told the kids that we needed to wait until she was off her phone before we accosted her.

That's when I realized that Ben should never have a career in espionage.

He would run up to the lady until he was about 2 feet from her and then he'd stop abruptly, all the while staring right at her. Then she'd walk a few feet away and he'd run toward her and stop again. She finally got off her phone and then promptly ducked into the restroom. I was concerned that she might be trying to escape from a window in the bathroom, convinced that Ben was part of some unorthodox bookstore Russian spy ring. But, to my relief, she came back out and Ben and Avery were able to give her their reward for opening the door for us.

So we continued on our search, looking for a worthy recipient for my card and for Savannah and Emma's shared card. Savannah declared that she did NOT want to give their card to someone who opened the door for people - she wanted to find someone different to give their card to. And just then Emma spotted a man who was opening the door for several people so she took off and stopped him so that she could give him their card. Since Savannah had wanted to find someone doing something other than opening a door, I let Emma give the man my card. She did a great job of telling him what we were doing and why we were doing it: she explained that her grandfather had passed away and that today was his birthday and that we were out looking for people who do nice things for others. When she was finished, you could tell that he was very touched by what we were doing. And that's when he told Emma that HIS father had died a few years ago and that HIS father's birthday was ALSO September 1st! What a small world! So we were pretty happy that we had picked such a special person to receive Emma's card . . .

After that, we headed back into the mall and started walking around looking for someone to give Savannah's card to. We weren't having any luck downstairs so we thought we'd head upstairs in the elevator to see if we'd have any luck up there. As we approached the elevator, a young couple and their kids were getting on the elevator and then the doors started closing. The young father saw that we were walking up so he stuck his arm out real fast and stopped the doors from closing all the way. I had visions of his arm getting severed but, alas, he was able to open the doors for us without losing a limb in the process. Savannah's response was to stare at him awkwardly and say things like "Say it, Catchy. Tell him." I gathered from that that she had decided to give her card to this miraculously two-armed man. So that's exactly what we did!

When we had all given our envelopes away, we all met up so that we could walk over to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner. My brother-in-law Brian wasn't going to be able to join us for dinner so he told us his story real quick. He had seen a couple walking with their baby and he struck up a conversation with them. That's when he discovered that they had just adopted their baby from Nigeria and he felt that they deserved his card because of the loving and long-term commitment that they had decided to make with their new baby. Unfortunately, he did NOT follow my instructions and text me his picture of his lucky envelope recipients so I don't have any picture. Everyone join me in saying "Bad Brian! That's a BAAAAAAD Brian!"

So Brian headed on to his business meeting and the rest of us headed over to dinner. Once we sat down, we started telling each other all of our stories. As you can imagine, we get very animated in our story-telling:

And we're very attentive:

And we thoroughly enjoy our evening together. Every year.

Here are the other stories we heard tonight . . .

From Matt:
The recipient of my card and $20 was a young employee named Andie who worked at the sporting goods store Fanzz. I went into the store the first time and she stopped what she was doing and made sure to ask me how I was doing, and if I needed help finding anything. She wasn't just being polite, she was going out of her way to make sure she could be the best employee possible. She made the customer service at Chick-Fil-A look spotty but I wasn't ready just yet to give her my reward. I walked the mall for another hour but couldn't find anyone else doing a good deed. I went back into Fanzz again and Andie was just as nice as the time before. When I told her my story and gave her the card, she told me to leave the store because she was about to cry. Andie is a great employee, but more importantly, a great person.

From Erin:
Matt and I were walking through the mall when we saw a couple walking towards the elevator and the man instantly reminded us of my dad. Why, you ask?? Because he was loaded down with all of his wife's shopping bags, of course!! He was so sweet and even stopped to make sure she went first down the escalator. We immediately jumped on the escalator and followed them down and accosted them Palmore style. They were both so surprised to be singled out for something that comes so naturally to them, which made it even more fun to give it to him. Before I got started, I asked him if that was his animal print dress he was carrying, because if it was, it would have made him carrying it a little less special!! I just told him about how my dad always treated my mom like a queen and would carry her things for her also. His wife jumped in and said that he always opens all of her doors and spoils her any way he can, so I was just so excited to give it to someone so much like my daddy. They both thanked me profusely and told us to have a blessed day and Matt and I both walked away feeling so good.

From my mom:
My first card went to the cutest little girl. She looked to be about 4 and she was with her even younger cousin. I was about to get on an escalator when I noticed the two girls getting on with their mothers right behind them. The 4 year old (Asia) had an arm around the younger girl (Amiyah) as they ever-so-carefully stepped onto the escalator. Then all the way down, Asia not only kept her arm around her little cousin to keep her safe but also held her chubby little hand. When they reached the bottom Asia made sure that Amiyah jumped off so as not to catch her little sandals in the machinery. I was trying to hurry down behind them when I spotted Matt and Erin walking near the bottom so I yelled for Erin and pointed to the girls at the bottom. She knew right away what I needed so she stopped the moms and waited 2 minutes for me so I could explain. I told little Asia how sweet and caring she was to her cousin and how proud I was of her. I handed her the envelope and told her she could get a treat with it. Amiyah immediately looked at me and asked "where's mine?"!

After I handed out that envelope, it was on to my next task: every year I walk the food court looking for a young man who has taken his hat off while eating. When I find one, he gets an even bigger gift because that was always one of Charlie's pet peeves. Charlie would always ask "don't parents teach their boys to take their hats off at the table anymore?" From all my wasted shoe leather I can tell you with some certainty - No, not really. I must have seen 30 boys at the food court with baseball hats ON. I laughed a couple of times when I'd pass one and think if they only knew they could have $50 if they had just taken their hat off! Finally, I noticed a table with a little red baseball hat but no people. We were near a merry go round so Tammy and I waited til they returned to their table. I walked over and asked casually why the little boy wasn't wearing his hat. I was hoping she wouldn't say that he just didn't want to wear it. But she said that they are from the Philippines and, in their culture, taking your hat off when you eat is a sign of respect. Also, if a man is being introduced to someone he is taught to take his hat off before offering to shake hands. To appear at any table to eat with your hat on is a sign of disrespect. Hellooooo! This was what I was hoping to see and hear. Gerry Velasco and his wife, Karen, were at the mall with my little baseball cap wearer, Andre and his baby brother, Andrew. Sweet family. They were so happy with their envelope.

(Editor's note: I'm PRETTY sure those kids were NOT named Andre and Andrew. Oh, Nora . . .)

From Tammy:
After trolling the mall for an hour or so, I decided to head up to the food court & scope things out. On my way I ran into Mom & we decided to walk together.....she had already given her $20 away & didn't hold out much hope for giving away the $50 hat prize. After seeing several guys sitting/eating with hats on, I saw a tall cowboy walk in....wearing a big ol' cowboy hat. I told Mom right away "that's my cowboy right there & he's gonna take off his hat!" Well, we waited for a long time for he & his group to get their food and sit down. In the meantime, Mom had found a little boy to give the special "hat reward" to. After talking to the little boy & his family, we turned around to leave & there right in front of me was my cowboy......sitting at a table with his hat OFF!!! I was so excited!! A true cowboy will ALWAYS remove his hat at the table! I decided that I would give my card to him. Mom & I swooped in on him & his girlfriend & just sat right down at their table. The first thing I said was "I gotta know why you took off your hat". He said "because I'm sitting at the table." I told him how excited I was to hear that & then explained about Dad. When we first sat down I thought he seemed kinda fierce, but as soon as I started explaining I could see that he was moved by our story. He said his Grandfather helped raise him & he still remembers him coming home to lunch from the oil fields & taking his hat off before he sat down to eat. He was a really super nice guy & talked to us a little about how he had broken his leg in 4 places!! And how that had really created some hardships, but that he has a family that loves him. He also said that hearing our story & how we have chosen to remember Dad gave him hope.....the spirit of our gesture gave him hope. Loved him.......super nice man!!!!!

And, as seems to be our luck every year, we had the nicest, most patient waiter waiting on us and putting up with our obnoxiousness and our repeated requests for more cheese, more bread, and more Diet Coke. I think the Lord gives us a nice waiter each year so that we can end our night on the perfect note. So a big thanks to Mike for putting up with us!

And, don't worry - we gave Mike a little reward, too! He deserved one!

So that's it. That's the recap of our celebration of the most wonderful man you could ever know. I hope that the people we met tonight will take the time to really read our cards and understand what we were trying to say to them. Because tonight we compared them to our dad. And that's the highest compliment we could ever pay.

So happy birthday, Dad!!

It was fun to see you in so many faces tonight . . .

Brink your recive!

2011-08-30T00:06:00.002-05:00

My friend Vicki sent me an email tonight that I just had to share. She had just returned from filling her tank up at a local gas station when she noticed that the header and footer on her receipt from the station were a little . . . ummmmmm . . . confused:

The header:

"AIRTEX VALERO CHURCH

FREE APPLE PIE

WHEN YOU BUY A COMBO

PLEASE BRINK YOUR"

Aaaaaaand the footer:

"CHURCHS FREE APPLE

PIE WHEN YOU BUY A

COMBO PLEASE BRINK

THE RECIVE THANK YO

HAVE A NICE DAY"

As Vicki said in her email . . . I can't have a nice day NOW!

Seriously? Never before has the promise of a free apple pie given me indigestion. I'm just glad that Vicki got this one instead of me because, let's be honest . . . a recive like this would brink me to my knees.

So Vicki . . . better yo than me.

The first female President?

2011-08-29T00:00:00.001-05:00

I'm aliiiiiiiiive!!! Sorry about going MIA . . . I hope you missed me LOTS while I was gone. I've been in trial for the last two weeks and the week before that I was too busy getting ready for trial to do any blogging. But my trials are over for now and it's time to get back to it! So I thought that I'd get back into the blogging saddle by telling you a story that my sister Erin told me today about my 6-year-old niece Avery.

They were playing a game that we play a lot when we're in the pool at my mom's. We don't have a name for it but these are the rules:

1) The group playing picks a category. Example: Candy.
2) The first person to go thinks of a type of candy (i.e. Snickers) and then everyone goes under water.
3) The person says their candy name under water as loudly and as articulately as they can.
4) Everyone comes up and guesses what the person said. [Don't judge - it's harder than it sounds.]
5) If no one, guesses correctly, everyone goes back under and the process is repeated until someone guesses it.

Follow me?

Now the trick to this game is to really exaggerate your speaking under water so that everyone can understand you through the bubbles and whatnot. I'm pretty awesome at this game, by the way. That's not really pertinent to this story but I thought you should know . . .

ANYWAY . . . Erin and Avery were at my mom's pool today and started playing this game. They had just about exhausted the Candy category when this conversation happened:

Erin: We need a new category - I can't think of anymore candies!!
Avery: How 'bout we can do whatever category we want, we just have to tell each other what the category is before we go under water.
Erin: Okay! That's a great idea.
Avery: I'm gonna do . . . ummmm . . . a President.
Erin: Okay!
Avery: Ready?
[both go under water and Avery says her President then they both come back up.]
Erin: [no idea what Avery just said underwater but trying to guess Presidents that Avery would know . . .] Ummmm . . . Washington?
Avery: Nope!
[both go back under and repeat the process. Erin still has no idea.]
Erin: Was iiiiiiiiit Lincoln?
Avery: Nope!
[both go back and under and do it all over again.]
Erin: Obama?
Avery: Nope! Wanna hint?
Erin: Yes! I'm dying here . . .
Avery: It's a girl. Ready to try again?!
Erin: [confused silence] Oh this is awkward. Ummm . . . there ARE no girl Presidents.
Avery: Oh. [looking confused] Well, if it's not a girl, then he has a girl's name. Ready?
[both go under and Avery says the name]
Erin: [racking her brain for a President with a girl's name and coming up with nothing] Ummmm . . . I have no idea. Kennedy?
Avery: Nope! Give up?
Erin: Yes - I have NO idea!
Avery: [exasperated . . .] Rose Avelt!

Oh man . . . it's good to be blogging again!!

Dream Diet

2011-08-09T00:00:00.002-05:00

My sister Erin was in her car the other day with my nieces Savannah (8) and Avery (6). Avery had just come from a birthday party where she had received a goody bag as a party favor and it was filled with all kinds of candy. She was sitting in the backseat munching on her goodies when this conversation occurred:

Savannah: Aw, man - no fair! I didn't get a goody bag!
Avery: That's okay, Savannah - you can have mine. This stuff is NOT on my diet.
Savannah: [confused, knowing how much her sister loves sugar] You're not on a diet, Avery.
Avery: Yes, I am. I'm watching what I eat.
Erin: You are?
Avery: Mmmm hmmm.
Erin: Like what are you not going to eat now that you're watching what you eat?
Avery: Sugar.
Erin: Really? Well, good for you.
Avery: [with a very grown-up air, teaching about her diet . . .] Like I can have vanilla ice cream, buuuuuuuuut not chocolate.
Erin: Oooooooh . . .
Avery: [nodding and continuing, very seriously] And I can have like a REGULAR popsicle buuuuuuut not like a FUDGEsicle.
Erin: I see. Well, don't set the bar TOO high for yourself . . .
[30 minutes later at my house . . .]
Avery: [grabs handful of M&Ms on her way out my door]
Savannah: Avery, I thought you were giving up sugar.
Avery: [looking at Savannah like she's crazy] No I'm NOT.

Sooooooooo I think I've got it figured out - I'm going to be encouraging Avery to become a dietitian. And then I'm gonna sign up to be her first client.

The only question left to decide is: do I go with French Vanilla or Vanilla Bean?

No kiero una kesadilla . . .

2011-08-04T00:13:00.006-05:00

My friend Kendall sent me a picture the other day of another example of what happens when you don't check your spelling before you make a sign advertising your business . . .

Something tells me this Mexican food is NOT authentic . . .

Bedside manner

2011-08-03T00:45:00.004-05:00

My sister Erin watches kids during the day and she's always calling me with the funniest stories about the kiddos that she babysits. The other day, she called to tell me a story about a 4-year-old named Alana (I've written about her toilet inspection before) and a 3-year-old named Luke. She's been watching both of them for several years so they're like family to all of us now. And they are so cuh-UTE. To help you grasp their preciousness, you should know that Luke wears the cutest little glasses and Alana says her "Rs" as "Ws." Seriously - they're so cute I can't STAND it!!

ANYWAY, the other day the kids at Erin's house were playing doctor in the playroom. Alana had her little doctor kit and the rest of the kids lined up as patients, eager to get their checkups. Luke was the first in line so he walked up to Dr. Alana to, hopefully, be given a clean bill of health.

Not so much:

Alana: [puts stethoscope on Luke's chest and then states matter-of-factly . . .] You've got a bwoken haht.
Luke: [concerned, exclaiming . . .] My BONES are broken??
Alana: [exasperated] NO. Youw HAHT is bwoken.
Luke: [gasps]
Alana: It's bwoken in a MILLION pieces.
Luke: [gasps louder]
Alana: [with dramatic finish] You awe dead fo-evew! [pause] NEXT!!

Apparently, Luke took the news well - he did a dramatic death scene and then laid there in the "exam" room while Alana looked after the rest of her patients, unconcerned with the tragic death that had just occurred. And the rest of the patients didn't seem to be as concerned as I would be if my doctor's previous patient was lying dead in the exam room - they just stepped over him and got their checkups.

She must have a VERY low co-pay . . .

Rain dancing - Palmore style!

2011-08-01T00:00:00.007-05:00

As most of you have probably heard (or experienced), Texas is in the middle of a pretty bad drought. It has rained a couple of times this summer but not much and certainly not in any significant amount. This might not be that unusual for some parts of Texas but I live in the Gulf Coast region, which tends to be a little wetter than other parts of Texas. In fact, by now we usually have had a couple of tropical storms and some rain from a hurricane that has made landfall somewhere along the Gulf. So it's strange to go this long with no rain. Trees are dying, grass is burned up, and my backyard looks pitiful.

The other day, I thought things were taking a turn for the better. I was walking my dog and noticed that the sky had turned gray, the wind had picked up, and I heard thunder and smelled rain. I was really excited because I figured that we were in for a good storm. But, alas, the cloud just passed over us and gave us a whole lotta nothin'. It was just cruel. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.

It was time to do a rain dance.

So I Googled the steps to a rain dance and it sounded simple enough, at least according to the websites I read. Here are the steps as I understand them:

1. Stand in a clearing in your yard or outdoors somewhere.
2. Hold your hands up above your head.
3. Look up to the sky.
4. Spin around while chanting something easily repeated, such as "rain rain rain rain."
5. Spin until you're too dizzy to continue.
6. Immediately drop to one knee until the dizziness subsides.

As I was reading the steps to a rain dance, I realized that it's very similar to a game that my parents used to play with us called "the broom trick." We're very creative with our game names in my family. ANYWAY, the steps are somewhat similar. Judge for yourself:

1. Stand with a broom in a clearing in your yard.
2. Hold a broom so that the base of broom is touching your chin.
3. Look up to the top of the broom.
4. Spin around 15-20 times.
5. Immediately drop the broom and try to jump over it.

Granted, it's not the SAME as the Native American rain dance. And it's certainly not a spiritual ritual. But it IS pretty fun. So I decided to use that as my own version of a rain dance and I got my sisters' kids to help me out. Together we did our own Palmore Rain Dance in my sister's front yard to try to bring some rain and end this drought.

You're welcome.

Now, my nieces and nephew had never done this before so it was a new experience for them. Emma was the first brave soul to try it out. Aaaaaaaaaand she didn't quite make it . . .

Then Avery gave it a shot. And had about as much success as Emma did. She even gives off a totally involuntary growl/grunt:

Savannah went next and quickly showed us that rain dancing/broom tricking can be a dangerous activity . . .

Ben went last and did the best of anyone. Perhaps his success is due to his commitment to keeping his chin on the broom at all costs or his absolutely terrifying Frankenstein-esque face:

When all the kids had gone, I decided it was time to show them how it's REALLY done. After all, I am 35 and have much better balance than these little KIDS:

Not my proudest moment. And I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who had to chase my rain dance with a muscle relaxer.

Since the broom trick proved to be a little too difficult, we decided to try something a little closer to an actual rain dance. Surely that would be easier, right?

Not so much . . .

So that was our attempt at trying to get some rain for Texas. And I don't want to take credit for anything but we DID get some rain this weekend. So I'm pretty sure that you have us to thank for that.

You're welcome. Again.

Just think how much rain we could get if you all got out there and did a broom trick rain dance, too! I think you should try it. And video it. And send it to me at catherine@thecatherinechronicles.com so I can post it for all to see. I mean, you don't want me to be the ONLY one on here making a fool of myself, do you???

So get rain dancin', people! Texas needs you.

And don't forget the muscle relaxers . . .

A starchy salary?

2011-07-20T00:00:00.003-05:00

My friend Hannah sent me this picture the other day. We THINK that they're trying to advertise potato WEDGES . . .

Either that or the economy is WAY worse than we thought.

Well, at least they have all fountain drink. That's gotta be worth something, right?

Managing expectations

2011-07-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

My friend Vicki sent me this picture of a sign that she saw the other day:

Way to set the bar high, guys . . .

A spelling crisis.

2011-07-15T00:01:00.005-05:00

I've been watching a lot of Fox News Channel lately (pause to let some of you groan and turn your CNN up). I'm trying to keep up with all the debates about the national debt crisis and to find out what's gonna happen - are they gonna raise the debt ceiling? Raise taxes? Cut spending? Default on social security checks? Set me up with Rick Leventhal or a cute senator? I just don't know. That's why I tune in.

The other night, I was watching The O'Reilly Factor. Normally, I don't watch that show because everyone just argues and talks over each other and I just end up rocking back and forth in the fetal position, sucking my thumb. But I watched it the other night and Bill was talking with Karl Rove about the debt ceiling and was asking what Karl (can I call you, Karl?) thought the solution should be. I was glad to hear Karl's opinion. After all, he was a part of the Bush administration and I tend to identify more with the conservative point of view (pause to let some of you groan and turn your CNN up more).

He began giving his thoughts on the problem and they made sense to me. I was actually following it, which was a first. Then, he held up a dry-erase board with some notes on it intended to clarify his point. But my eyes zeroed in on the first word and I heard nothing else that he said for the next five minutes . . .

Come on, Karl. Don't you know my brain shuts down with these kinds of spelling mistakes? How can I focus on the debt crisis if I have to deal with a SPELLING crisis, too?? I need to understand this debt ceiling thing and now all I can think about is "i before e except after c." It just keeps playing over and over and over in my head. Like a manic chant. I expected more from you, Karl. I really did.

Maybe George W. should have had implemented a "No Politician Left Behind" initiative instead . . . ?

Punctuation or Perfection? You decide.

2011-07-13T00:00:00.002-05:00

I went to Burger Fresh in Conroe the other day with my roommate because she had just gotten back from a mission trip to Africa and was craving some good ol' American cuisine. Burger Fresh is a local restaurant that was recently written up in a Texas Monthly article naming the best burgers in Texas. And let me tell you, people - these burgers are goooooooood. Throw in some onion rings and a milkshake? Stop. It.

As I sat there eating my super healthy meal, I couldn't help but think that there's really nothing better than a greasy burger and a basket of onion rings. But that's when I looked at what was written on the wall:

I don't know if I'm hoping this is just a poorly designed advertisement for Blue Bell and dipped onion rings as separate and distinct items or if I want there to be such a thing as Blue-Bell-dipped-onion rings. I'm afraid and intrigued at the same time.

But I know where I'll be on Saturday . . .

A little of this, a little of that . . .

2011-07-12T00:00:00.004-05:00

The other day, my 7-year-old nephew Ben made an appetizer for their family meal. This was very exciting for him because he wants to be a chef one day and LOVES helping in the kitchen. So Tammy thought it would be a fun thing for him to do and she gave him complete creative license - she would supervise him but, other than that, he was allowed to create and prepare whatever he wanted without interference from her. He took this responsibility to heart and worked very hard to prepare what would essentially be his big cooking debut.

And what he came up with was a unique appetizer, heretofore unheard of in civilized nations:

Yep - that's right. Onions and jalapenos. That's it. A relish of sorts, straight from the pits of Hell.

When dinnertime came, Ben proudly placed his glass bowl of onions and jalapenos on the dinner table for all to enjoy. While the others politely avoided the bowl and opted for other dinner items that were less, well, painful, Ben dug right in and began eating onions out of the bowl. Tammy was trying so hard not to laugh so, to distract herself, she turned her head away from Ben and began talking to Emma. But a few minutes later, Tammy looked back at Ben and noticed that he was silently crying. At first she thought it was because the air was so filled with onion and jalapeno fumes that it was just making him cry. But she quickly realized something else was going on so she asked him what was wrong and, with bright-red lips, he told her that his lips were burning.

You know, from the jalapeno juice . . .

So Tammy jumped up and got him a wet washcloth and some ice to cool his lips off. Pretty soon he had water and drool running down his chin but his lips had cooled off and his tears had dried up. So they all went about the rest of their meal and continued visiting as a family.

Uuuuuuuuntil Tammy looked over and noticed that Ben was silently weeping again.

She asked him if his lips were still hurting and he shook his head, tears still streaming down his face. So she asked him why he was crying and that's when he took the ice cube off his lips and wailed "NOBODY'S EATING MY APPETIZEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRR."

Apparently, it just hadn't FIRED up everyone's appetites like he had planned . . .

Get it?

Man, I'm funny.

A great sport . . .

2011-07-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

My nieces Emma and Savannah - 10 and 8, respectively - have recently had some orthodontic work done. I know - it seems young, doesn't it? But, apparently, this is the new trend in orthodontics: take care of things while they're young so that their teeth move more easily, more quickly, and less painfully. ANYWAY, Emma just got braces today and looks presh with them, of course. See?

I wish I had looked that pretty when IIIIIIIII had my braces on!

Savannah just got an expander in the roof of her mouth to make room for all of her teeth and then she'll be getting braces. I don't know if you know what an expander is but it's a big metal contraption in the roof of her mouth and it makes it very difficult for her to form words because it gets in the way of her tongue. Being the empathetic aunt that I am, I like to make her say things so that I can laugh and laugh at how funny she sounds when she says them.

Don't you wish you had an aunt like me?

But don't worry - Savannah isn't offended by us laughing at her. In fact, she has been a great sport about us using her as entertainment and usually laughs just as hard herself. In fact, she's SUCH a great sport that she has agreed to let me videotape her talking and singing so that I can share this entertainment with you.

Don't worry - it's okay to laugh at THIS 8 year old . . . you have her permission:

After we recorded this, Savannah said "Catchy, THIS one is gonna get a LOT of comments." So, if you get a chance, leave a comment for my two favorite little metal mouths. I'm sure they'd love to hear about what YOU thought about braces, if you've had them. And if you haven't had them, feel free to tell them how cute they are. That's what I always do.

You know - when I'm not laughing at them . . .

Hail to the Chief

2011-07-06T00:00:00.001-05:00

My mom and I went to the George Bush museum in College Station this weekend on what my mom would call a "lark" - she loves going on a lark. We're big fans of Presidential museums because we like how you get a bunch of history and a glimpse into the lives of our former presidents as you look at all the pictures and memorabilia and read all the placards. So, since my mom hadn't been to the Bush museum yet, we hit the road for a spontaneous road trip and headed west to good ol' Aggieland.

I'd like to say that I spent the most time reading interesting tidbits about Bush's political journey or the issues that he stood for while in Congress and the Oval Office. But I must fess up to being a little shallow - I like to look at the pictures of him and his family before he became President. Or pictures of him and Barbara on their wedding day. It's so neat to see them as ordinary citizens, leading their ordinary lives. And, in this museum, you kind of get two for the price of one because you see lots of pictures of George W. as a child in the Bush family's early days in Texas. There were pictures of him as a toddler, as a child, as a teenager. Pictures of him on his mother's hip, in the yard playing, just smiling with his siblings - just general shots of him living his life. I love that.

It's cool to look at those pictures and think about how he was just a normal toddler, smiling for the picture without any clue that he was destined to become President or that this picture would one day be hanging in a museum. I've never had any desire to be President but, as I stood there, I just couldn't help but imagine myself in his shoes. That's the cool thing about America - anyone can become President. Any one of us could have pictures hanging in a Presidential museum one day. It could be you. It could be me.

That's when my armpits started sweating.

Don't get me wrong - I think it would be so cool to be President and, let's face it, the idea of people coming from miles around to learn about me and read about me and see pictures of me is RIGHT up my alley. But a PRESIDENTIAL museum needs to be dignified. It needs to have an air of distinction. Of greatness. Of prestige. And the pictures and memorabilia contained therein should live up to that standard.

My Presidential museum would be filled with pictures that would bring embarrassment upon the office of President.

Liiiiiiiiiike the hundreds upon hundreds of shots of my various mullets over the years. Take, for example, this classic shot of my permed mullet from 4th grade, complete with nestled heart-shaped clip:

Or this one, showing the domestic side of my mullet:

Or, God forbid, this one, showing my mullet in what appears to be a post-hacksaw encounter:

I daresay mine would be the first mullet to grace the walls of a Presidential museum. And I don't think I'm okay with that.

No - maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe the American public would be okay with the mullet. I mean, it was the 80s - I can't be responsible for popular hairstyles through the decades, right? My fellow Americans would surely not lose respect for me just because of my hair, right? And then it hits me . . .

Oh, Lord. The bedhead pictures. WHY did I take the bedhead pictures??

I'm standing in the Bush museum, surrounded by pictures of the fall of the Berlin wall and all I can think about is that my Presidential museum would have a bedhead section instead of a Berlin Wall section. And that's horrifying.

But not as horrifying as the thought of a section containing pictures of me wearing leotards:

The American people don't deserve that.

Or pictures of me in various dance poses:

I don't care if my body WAS by Boni, those pictures have no place in a Presidential museum.

But you know what pictures are the worst to think about? More than the mullets or even the leotards? The WORST thing that would be in my Presidential museum would be the many, many pictures that I've taken over the years that would make Americans question whether I had an I.Q. sufficient for the Highest Office in our country:

How do you lead people after they've seen you with a banana peel or a basket on your head? How can they have confidence in you when they've seen you trying to eat a telephone or sticking out your tongue? Or seen up your nose? How can they take you seriously when they know you used a tattered binky until you were in grade school? It just can't be done.

So I have a new-found respect for the many Presidents who have led our country and, in the process, have opened up their lives and picture albums for all to see. I tip my basket-hat to them and say "Hail to the Chief!"

Better you than me.

Pete's air.

2011-07-05T00:48:00.008-05:00

My mom and I were driving to College Station this weekend and, while on the road, we saw a tire shop that seemed like an interesting place:

Not surprisingly, "Pete Comma Tire Shop" sells used tires:

But we're not talking the "certified pre-owned" kind of "used." We're talking straight up USED:

At least he's straightforward about it. That's what I like about Pete. He doesn't mess around with pretense or false labels. He just is who he is - no excuses and no apologies. His mottos in life are "Why pay for a sign when you have a can of spray paint on hand?" and "Apostrophes are overrated." I imagine him working in his shop, wearing overalls and grumbling about the younger generation and their annoying sense of entitlement. Pete doesn't believe in that. He thinks you work and pay for EVERYTHING. He does NOT believe in freebies.

And he's SERIOUS about that . . .

Don't worry - I held my breath as I was taking this picture. I mean, I wasn't sure how much he CHARGES for air and I didn't have much cash on me.

And you just DON'T take Pete's air . . .

Awkwardly excited!

2011-07-01T00:02:00.005-05:00

So sorry for going MIA this week . . . I was in trial so I had a good excuse, I promise!! I've been so busy and SO tired and am DEFINITELY looking forward to the long weekend. Hopefully, I will be recharged and ready to go with new posts on Monday. But, for now, since I'm jumping back on here at the end of the week, I thought I'd just share some fun news with you, rather than trying to write a full-blown post . . .

A while back - maybe even a YEAR ago?? - I submitted a picture to awkwardfamilyphotos.com. Have you seen this website?? If you haven't, stop what you're doing and go there now. But only if you promise to come back. I mean, they're really funny so I want to make sure that you won't leave me for them. Promise? Okay - go ahead. I'll wait here . . .

Oh good - you're back! Soooooooooo? Aren't they so funny?? I love their captions because they are so clever without being too harsh - it really is an awesome website.

ANYWAY, one day I was surfing around on there and decided to submit a picture of me and my sisters at Dickens-on-the-Strand in Galveston around Christmastime in the mid 80s. It's a picture that's near and dear to me and one that I've shared on this blog before:

I love this picture because it captures all three of our awkward phases at one time posing with who might very well be the Patron Saint of Awkward Phases (thank you to one of my readers for that name!). Me with my permed mullet, Judge Judy collar, and my filthy velcro tennies; Tammy with her mauve sweater vest, flood pants, and boat shoes; and Erin with her jacked-up mullet, filthy shoes, and St. Paddy's day sweatshirt at Christmas - it's just all too much for one photo. And I love the fact that my dad had this blown up to an 8x10 and framed - now THAT'S unconditional love, people!!

ANYWAY, because I love this picture so much and think it's so funny, I submitted it to awkwardfamilyphotos.com and, for about a year, would go check on their site every so often to see if they had published it. But, alas, I never saw it. I finally just figured that maybe they just didn't think it was as funny as I did. Oh well - no big deal . . . [big sigh, staring at the floor, trying to get you to feel sorry for me . . .]

Then, one day, I got an email from them telling me that awkwardfamilyphotos.com had decided to release a daily desk calendar and they wanted to know if they could put MY PICTURE in it!! I called my sisters up and, after getting over the horrifying fact that this picture would wind up on desks all over the country, we cracked up. And then they told us that our picture would be the St. Patrick's Day picture and we cracked up all over again.

It just couldn't get any funnier. Until . . .

I got an email a few weeks ago letting me know that they were going to be releasing a new Awkward Family Photos Board Game and OUR PICTURE was going to be in that, too!!! So, after all these years, the permed mullet is finally going to get its 15 minutes of fame!!

The board game is on sale now in stores and on their website and the calendars go on sale later this month. Aren't you excited?? Don't you think you need to go order one right now?? And maybe put a few away for Christmas presents?? I think you do!! So go do it!!

Go on.

Seriously.

Do it.

Why are you still here?

www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com

Sinful spelling

2011-06-22T00:00:00.001-05:00

My friend Kara took this picture and sent it to me a couple of weeks ago:

This is . . . well . . . a sin.

What a dad!

2011-06-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

Father's Day is a little weird to me now that my dad is gone. I mean, I see all the commercials telling me to go buy my dad a new phone or a new grill and I think to myself "Nope - I'd get him the latest Stephen King book. He'd like that more than a new phone, anyway." I hear the sermon on Sunday morning talking about how dads need to take their roles seriously and tell their kids they love them and I think to myself "My dad could have taught a class on how to make your kids feel loved." I see all the Father's Day cards and I think to myself "Man - I'd love to be shopping for one of those." I see a man standing in a restaurant and think to myself "He's cute - I wonder if he's single."

Wait - that has nothing to do with Father's Day. How'd THAT get in there?

ANYWAY, I had the PERFECT dad. And there's LITERALLY not ONE day that has passed in the last 5 years that I haven't missed him so much that my stomach hurts. So Father's Day really isn't any different than any other day to me - I miss him no matter what the occasion. But it gives me the perfect excuse to tell YOU how fun he was and share some of my favorite memories with you, if you'll humor me . . .

One of my favorite memories happened when I was in high school and we were driving home from playing tennis together as a family. My dad was driving, my mom was in the front passenger seat, and my sisters and I were in the back. We were almost home and my dad stopped at a stop sign that was about 50 yards from our street. As soon as the car came to a stop, he yelled "CHINESE FIRE DRILL!!" and then he jumped out of the car and started running. Now, in case you've lived under a rock for the last few decades and are not familiar with what a Chinese Fire Drill is, allow me to explain. When someone in the car yells "Chinese Fire Drill," everyone in the car has to jump out, run around the car, and then get back into their seats so that you can drive on. So when my dad called the Drill, my mom and sisters and I jumped out and began running around the car, laughing and squealing like 10 year olds. I remember jumping back into my seat and seeing that my dad was not back in HIS seat as the driver. There was a second of confusion as we looked around to see where the heck he was. And that's when we saw him up ahead - running all the way to the house with this goofy high-kneed run that he used to do to make us laugh. He turned around and waved at us over his shoulder as we all began laughing and squealing all over again. So I quickly jumped out of the car again and into the driver's seat and drove us all home. My dad was waiting in the driveway for us, cracking up.

That was my dad!

[Excuse me while I go get some Kleenex to blow my nose . . .]

There was another time when I was in a tennis match right after school - maybe like 4 o'clockish. I was playing a girl from another school but I don't remember that it was a particularly important match - just one of the many that we played throughout the year. I hit a good shot down the line and won the point and that's when I heard my dad cheering from the other side of the fence. I hadn't expected him to take off work early to be at this relatively unimportant match. But there he was, sitting in a chair next to my mom and cheering me on, telling me to "go to for the jugular!"

Man - I had a great dad!

[Be right back - apparently I'm gonna need the whole stinkin' BOX of Kleenex . . .]

I remember when I was in junior or high school my mom LOVED Payday candy bars so my dad started putting one under her pillow every now and then so that she'd have a little surprise when she'd go to lay down for the night - now THAT'S my idea of romance, people! My younger sister and I, being the selfless, loving daughters that we were, lodged an official complaint about not getting any candy bars under OUR pillows. A few nights later, when I went to bed, I found Reese's Peanut Butter Cups under MY pillow. I came busting out of my room to run down and give my dad a hug and, as I did, I ran into Erin who was also running downstairs with a Snickers in her hand. I remember he just laughed when we ran into his room, candy bars in tow, and tackled him.

Seriously - wasn't he a great dad?

[Anybody have any Paxil I can borrow??]

I remember him calling me when I was away at college and law school. He'd just call me to check on me and to tell me that he loved me. I used to love getting his calls because I knew even then how lucky I was to have a dad who loved me so much and never left me in doubt of that. And I'm so thankful for that now because I have so many years ahead of me that will be empty of his voice telling me he loves me or telling me to go for the jugular. But at least I have his voice in my head - he made sure that I heard it all so many times that I'd never forget it. And as cliche as it sounds, I know that he is still with me, looking out for me and loving me from afar. I mean, I don't really know how it works or how God arranges it but I know that Heaven just wouldn't be Heaven for my dad if he weren't able to keep an eye on his girls.

What a GREAT dad.

Now if he could just talk to God about getting some Reese's under my pillow . . .

What's for brackfas?

2011-06-17T01:22:00.006-05:00

My friend Sara sent me this picture today. She got it off of her friend's facebook page and I thought it was worthy of sharing:

Well, this is NO way to start the morning. I don't care if they ARE 99 cents - my appetite is RUINED.

Maple & Motormouth

2011-06-15T00:00:00.001-05:00

I was in Dallas this weekend with my sisters and their kids for my cousin Lauren's wedding. On Friday afternoon, we decided to check out a local burger joint called Maple & Motor because we'd heard that they had great burgers. We got to the restaurant right in the middle of Friday lunch traffic so it was PACKED, of course, and there was a bit of a line. Since it's a small place, they make you line up outside and then gradually let you in as other people leave. When we were there, the owner was sitting outside like a bouncer, letting people in a few at a time. By the time we got to the front of the line, we were the only ones waiting outside so we struck up a conversation with the owner. He immediately started chatting with the kids and, at one point, tried to guess which one of us was Ben's mom. That's when this conversation happened:

Avery [6 years old]: Who do you think MY mom is?
Owner: [looks around and then points to me] That one.
Avery: [giggling] Nope! She's my aunt!
Ben [7]: Yeah. She's our aunt. She's not married yet.
Owner: [to me, jokingly] Oh really? What are you doing tonight?
Me: [giggling ridiculously and saying something like . . .] I . . . you . . . fun . . . ny . . .
Owner: [to Ben] Let me give you a little tip - never say "yet" to a woman. Just say "She's not married."
Ben: [confused] Okaaaaaay . . .
Owner: 'Cause she might not WANT to get married.
Ben: Oh no - SHE does.
Avery: Yeah - she dooooooooes.
Me: Oh God, please no . . .
Ben: Yeah. She's looking for . . . [then to my horror, he makes bird beaks with each of his hands and puts them together like they're kissing and then actually STARTS MAKING KISSING NOISES.]
Me: Someone shut that kid up.
Ben: She's looking for . . . [makes a downward swiping motion with his hand, like a cougar paw, and then actually MAKES A FREAKIN' COUGAR SOUND.]
Me: Wow. Interesting - this is SO much worse than I thought it would be . . .

You know - if I ever DO get married, I have NO idea what these kids will talk about . . .

To be continued . . . ?

2011-06-13T00:27:00.003-05:00

My sisters and I were driving home from Dallas this weekend and we decided to stop at the Dairy Queen in Buffalo, Texas for our mandatory road trip DQ stop. Sure - I could've driven all the way home without an Oreo Blizzard. But WHY would I want to do that??

ANYWAY, as I was standing in the line trying to decide if I wanted to order the Oreo Blizzard or the Oreo Cheesequake Blizzard (what??), I glanced over toward the restrooms and saw this sign on the men's room door . . .

What?? What will the lock not do??

This is no time for a cliffhanger, people!!

Baby got back.

2011-06-08T00:00:00.003-05:00

My friend Melissa, knowing how much I love to blog about restaurant art, sent me a picture from a restaurant in the great state of Maine:

Holy buns of steel!! SOMEONE needs to invest in a pair of undies and a slip, asap. And is it just me or do you want to jump through the picture to tell her that she needs to lay off the calf raises, like YESTERDAY? Those things are terrifying. Add the butt and the freakish thigh-calves to the beaver-tail hairdo and the prosthetic fingers and you've got a real STUNNING beauty.

I mean, just look at her date's face and tell me HE'S not stunned . . .

We've got our ice on you . . .

2011-06-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

My friend Cara sent me this picture from an ice machine at a gas station in Beaver's Bend, Oklahoma. Apparently, they take their ice VERY seriously there . . .

You know - there are two things that can cause people to NOT take your threat seriously. One is not spell-checking "surveillance" before you write it on your sign. Aaaaaaaaaaand the other is decorating your menacing threat with a smiley face.

Personally, I think they should have gone with "FREEZE - you're on camera" or "If you steal from us, we'll kick your ice."

But nobody asked me . . .

Dot your Is and CROSS your Ts . . .

2011-06-02T00:56:00.006-05:00

My friend Rebecca sent me this picture the other day from San Antonio, Texas:

If their slogan isn't something random like "We take the T out of REALTY" then this is totally inexcusable. Spell check, people!! SPELL CHECK!!

And even worse than a spelling mistake is a missed design opportunity - they left the CROSS out of REALTY, for goodness sake. This is a major oversight.

Realy disappointing. REALY disappointing . . .

A serious transportation problem.

2011-05-31T00:00:00.001-05:00

I went to Birmingham this weekend to see my friend Ashley and her family. Ashley has a 7-year-old daughter named Ann Elizabeth and she is just the most precious thing. She apparently gets onto topics occasionally that she obsesses over and, at the moment, the topic of obsession is the North Pole. I found this out firsthand when she sat by me at lunch on Sunday and had this conversation with me:

Annie: Catchy, do you want to come back to Alabama one day and I will take you to the North Pole?
Me: [emphatically] AbsoLUTEly. When? Like next year maybe?
Annie: [looking at me like I've lost my mind] No - when I'm grown up.
Me: Oh, of course. That makes sense. Yes - I would LOVE to come back and go to the North Pole with you when you grow up.
Annie: [getting a VERY serious thinking face, looking down at the table, tapping her lips with her finger as she thinks] But how will we get there?
Me: [joining her in this serious problem-solving brainstorming session and then, after a few seconds . . .] A sleigh?
Annie: [still very serious] Yes. [nodding her head slightly as she mulls this over] Yes. A sleigh would work. [pause as she thinks and taps her lips with her fingers, still looking at the table and squinting her eyes] But how will we push it?
Me: Hmmmmm . . . that's a good question . . .
Annie: [VERY seriously, still looking at the table] I don't have ANY pixie dust . . .
Me: Oh man . . . I didn't realize that.
Annie: [tap tap tap]
Me: [seriously] Do you have any reindeer?
Annie: [looks upward as if doing a quick inventory of her available resources] No. No, I don't.
Me: Oh man. This is going to be tough.
Annie: [nodding gravely] Yes, it is.

Unfortunately, we didn't get it figured out before I had to head back home. But something tells me that Annie will figure out a way to get us up there when she grows up.

If only she could get her hands on some pixie dust . . .

Profiles in fruit . . .

2011-05-25T00:00:00.000-05:00

My friends Sean and Britt and I had lunch today in one of my favorite places in Huntsville - Benny J's BBQ. While we were eating the BEST BRISKET EVER, I looked up and noticed a picture on the wall that I thought was worthy of sharing:

What I love most about this picture is just the randomness of it all - none of it really seems to go together. I like to think about the artist's thought process as she painted it: "[staring at blank canvas, fingers drumming the table] Hmmmmmm . . . what should I paint?? It's such a hard decision - this could be my masterpiece, after all. I'm REALLY good at fruit. [pause] But I'm also REEEEEALLY good at profiles. Especially the right side . . ."

Decisiveness is SO overrated.

Roomie Reunion!!

2011-05-23T00:00:00.000-05:00

I had dinner tonight at Cheesecake Factory with all my old roommates. I've lived with some really cool girls over the years so it was a fun group to spend the evening with - we definitely made our presence known out there on the patio tonight. There was Jill (my best friend and now mom of 2), Krista (who was in student ministry when she lived with me and now is a mom of 2, with one on the way), Hannah (who was ALSO in student ministry when she lived with me and is now a mom of 2), Tracy (Jill's sister who was an actress when she lived with me and is now - you guessed it - a mom of 2), Christen (yet ANOTHER who was in student ministry when she lived with me and who is now doing the hotel-corporate thing in Denver), and Melissa (my current roommate and super sweet kindergarten teacher). We spent a lot of time catching up, updating everyone on the latest changes in paint colors in their old rooms, and reminiscing about all the fun times we have had over the years in La Casa de Catchy.

Tracy and Hannah told a story tonight that I had forgotten about and it just made me crack up all over again so I thought I would share it with y'all. In order to appreciate this one, you have to know that Tracy was an actress and is naturally very theatrical and expressive. Hannah, on the other hand, is super low-key and laid-back. Tracy and Krista had been living with me but Krista got married and moved out so Hannah moved into Krista's room. I had given Hannah a key because she told me that she wanted to go ahead and start bringing her stuff to the house the next day. That was great with me but, unfortunately, I neglected to tell Tracy that Hannah was moving in . . .

So the next day, Tracy's at home by herself and she decides to jump in the shower. Knowing Tracy, she was probably singing some opera song or practicing her accents - living with an actress is so very entertaining. Anyway, she jumps in the shower and, when she turns the shower off, she hears a noise upstairs, outside of the bathroom door. Knowing that I am at work and thinking that no one else should be in the house, she immediately determines that there's an intruder in the house. In a split second, two things happen:

First, she remembers a story that her dad had told her once about a time when he was in the shower at a hotel and heard someone break into his room. He immediately rushed out into the room, butt-naked, to confront the intruder. The guy who had broken in was so startled by the fact that this naked man was running at him that he turned and ran out of the room, closely followed by Tracy's naked dad.

Second, Tracy makes the split decision to charge naked out of the restroom and scare whoever it is who has had the nerve to break into my house.

Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, sweet Hannah is head upstairs to check out her new room so she can decide where she's going to put all her furniture. She's walking down the hallway with a pep in her step, feeling excited about her new living arrangements and her new roommates. She knows me and Tracy and is really happy to be moving in with us because she thinks we're really fun and super normal - no crazy drama in THIS house! She hears the shower turn off, hears a slight pause, and then SUDDENLY a naked Tracy is running down the hallway at her with a crazed look in her eyes, waving her arms and screaming "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

Hannah quickly looks up at the ceiling, puts her hands up in a defensive position, shuffles backwards as fast as she can, and yells "It's ME! It's MEEEEEEEEEE!" So Tracy, seeing that it's just Hannah and not a scary intruder, does a quick 180 and runs the other way, yelling "Oh hi, Hannah! Sorry about that!!"

Not QUITE the kind of Welcoming Committee that Hannah had expected.

Then, as we're wiping our tears from laughing over that story, Jill tells us that the story about her and Tracy's dad did not end with that guy running out of his hotel room. What actually happened is that their dad actually ran out of the room, too, and into the hallway - he just wanted to make sure the guy was DEFINITELY out of his room. Luckily, no one saw him. UNluckily, his door closed and locked behind him and he was stuck outside in the hallway. Completely naked. Aaaaaaaaand had to go to the front desk for a key.

I bet that hotel revamped its security protocol after THAT.

As for MY protocol? No need to revamp - just ask Hannah.

Hairy Scary.

2011-05-19T00:00:00.001-05:00

I've been nauseated off and on this week and haven't been able to figure out if it's because of something I ate or if it's some sort of stomach bug. But whatever it is, it's annoying - I've been dealing with it since Monday and I'm over it. Yesterday I was out with my mom and sisters for a belated celebration of Erin's birthday when I was overcome again with nausea and had to go lay down in my sister's car while they all shopped. Luckily, my mom had some chewable Pepto Bismol tablets with her so I took those and, after a little while, the nausea seemed to subside and didn't really resurface for the rest of the night.

This morning I woke up and walked to my bathroom, feeling fine for the first time this week. I brushed my teeth and, when I went to spit the toothpaste out, I noticed that my toothbrush was covered in gray, as if I had something gray in my mouth. I opened my mouth and, sure enough, my tongue was black.

My freakin' tongue was buh-lack.

I quickly racked my brain, trying to remember if I had eaten anything purple or dark the night before that would have turned my tongue that color but I hadn't - I had eaten only bread and Sprite that night because of my nausea. My heart started racing as I began to convince myself that I was obviously turning into a Chow or suffering from some rare disease that makes you nauseated and then turns your tongue black - either option meant my future was bleak. Just as I was nearing the panic zone, I decided to take a pro-active approach to this problem - I rushed downstairs, pulled my laptop out, and Googled "nausea black tongue."

One of the first search results that caught my eye on the page said something about a "black hairy tongue" and I heard myself scream "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" - this worst case scenario! But then I was amazed at how quickly I became resigned to the curse of a hairy tongue. I slowly shook my head, and slumped down in my chair, recalling fondly the days of old with my hairless tongue. But then my head started spinning as I began to think of all the things I needed to do: call my family to explain why I had to go into hiding immediately, write my boss to let her know that I wouldn't be returning to work, and find a cave in a remote location in a third-world country where my hairy tongue and I could live in peace, free from persecution. And just as I was about to google "how to french braid your tongue hair" I saw the other Google results, all of which mentioned that Pepto Bismol can make your tongue turn black.

No hair. Just Pepto.

I was simultaneously relieved and disappointed - I mean, after all, I had already come up with some cute decorating ideas for my cave AND my tongue that were now useless to me. But then I saw THIS picture on Google images:

Aaaaaaaaand then I just felt relieved.

And, frankly, a bit nauseated again . . .

Chinese Massage Torture.

2011-05-18T00:00:00.000-05:00

I went to the mall with my mom this weekend to get a few things for my night of speed dating and, after we had wrapped up our shopping and were on our way out to our cars, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to get one of those chair massages. You know what I'm talking about - you've seen the Asian chair massage people a million times and you've probably passed them by without thinking twice about it. So do I, usually. But this time I decided to give it a try just for the heck of it. I walked up to the guy who was standing there and, seeing that I was interested and not wanting to risk that I would change my mind, he started pulling me toward a chair. I resisted so he put his arm around my shoulder and tried to push me toward a chair.

This should have been a red flag.

When he realized that I was strong-like-bull and couldn't be pushed and/or pulled against my will, he gave up his efforts at trying to abduct me and, instead, showed me a laminated card that had their prices and the different kinds of massages I could get. I saw that I could pay $12 for a 10 minute massage or $24 for a 25 minute massage so, naturally, I decided to go for the 25 minute massage - it just made sense. So I let the guy pull me excitedly to one of the massage chairs and push me down into it. There was a bit of a language barrier but he did his best to "introduce" me to the guy who would actually be massaging my back and then THAT guy gestured with his hands to tell me that I needed to lean forward and place my face into what we'll call the "face holder" because I don't know the technical name for it. I followed his directions and leaned forward until my face was planted into the little face holder. Then my little massage guy went to work.

And it was quite possibly the most painful experience I've ever had in my life.

Now, granted, I've never birthed children. But I daresay this chair massage would be more painful even than that because it wasn't as much a "massage" as it was a "beating." He started by standing in front of me, pushing my shoulders in an alternating pattern - right, left, right, left, etc. - and he was pushing on my shoulders so hard that I thought for sure I heard ligaments in my neck snapping. I looked through the little face holder and saw that he was leaning into this move with his entire body weight, as if he were walking against Category 5 hurricane-force winds.

That's when I looked at my watch and cursed myself for not picking the 10 minute option.

Then he moved to my back and started "massaging" down my spine. He would push with his thumbs on either side of my spine and then slam his hands into my back so that all I felt was push SLAM! push SLAM! push SLAM! push SLAM! push SLAM! push SLAM! down the entire length of my spine. Aaaaaaaaaand then back up again. When he finished that, he tried to work out a stress knot that I'm pretty sure was a vital organ. Then he started using his forearm - which is NEVER a good sign - and I'm fairly certain that he caused nerve damage at that point. And before I knew it, he was punching my thighs - and I mean REALLY punching them. Not like you see massage therapists do when they sort of hammer someone's back - this guy was working out some major aggression and LITERALLY punching my thighs. He continued down to my calves and ended his work on my legs with a couple of extra blows to my thighs and an enthusiastic pinch of the skin on my ankles.

Seriously? My ankles? That was just mean . . .

Toward the end of the 25 minutes, he started to massage my scalp. I felt relieved because scalp massages usually feel so good and, since my scalp is just bone, I foolishly thought "what pain could he really cause me?" He started with my ears, rubbing them until I thought they would burst into flame. Then he moved to the base of my skull and did his push SLAM! technique there for a few minutes. Unfortunately, every time he SLAMMED me, he pushed my throat into the base of the face holder so that I was basically getting choked every 3 seconds. As I sat there trying to figure out how I had actually been suckered into paying $24 for an assault AND strangulation, he began trying to harvest my frontal lobe with his thumbs. Eventually he moved his attention to my temples and that's when I got seriously concerned about the potential for brain damage and/or looking like this guy:

Mercifully, my 25 minutes came to an end and I was released. My little guy slapped me on the back and I winced at the bruises already forming. He smiled at me and proudly asked "You feel better?" I put a brave smile on my face, and said "Yep!" - I mean, what else could I say? He seemed so proud and I didn't want to let him down.

And, frankly, I was more concerned about getting home to put some ice packs on my ears . . .

If you prefer brains to brawn . . .

2011-05-17T00:00:00.001-05:00

Well, since Gustavo is taking FOREVER to declare his undying love for me and carry me away on his lawnmower, I've decided to try a different way of finding Mr. Right. The online thing didn't really work out for me, the mail-order-husband thing is just too expensive, and prostitution is hard to get into, what with finding the right pimp and all. So I tried to brainstorm about some other options and, in the process, I remembered watching the movie Hitch a long time ago and seeing a scene where they were speed-dating. I remember walking out of the movie theater after watching that movie, thinking to myself: 1) I'm strangely attracted to Kevin James (but that's a blog for another time) and 2) I must try speed dating one of these days.

So that's what I did this weekend. I got online and found a speed-dating event that was happening this weekend and it was geared especially for "university-educated" folks. The write-up on it said something like "If you prefer brains to brawn, then this event is for you!" and, while I didn't think THAT seemed like a good sign, I decided that I wanted to try it. Then I called up my friend Lincee (who writes a blog and a Bachelor/Bachelorette recap called i hate green beans that is HILARIOUS . . .) to beg and/or bribe and/or extort her to join me so that I didn't have to do it by myself. She agreed to go so we registered ourselves, talked about what we were going to wear, aaaaaaaand then invested in a case of Pepto Bismol each . . .

We weren't really sure how the whole thing was going to work - all we knew was that it started at 7:30 at a bar in Houston that we'll call the Texas Bar. So we met at a parking garage downtown, just a block down from the bar, and walked over to where this little bit of awesomeness was supposed to take place. The Texas Bar is located on the second floor of a two-story building so we walked up the stairs expecting to find a happenin' singles scene, filled with eligible and lively bachelors. What we found, instead, was the quietest bar either of us had ever been to. There were no signs up to let us know that we were in the right place, there was no host or hostess to greet us and welcome us, there wasn't even any music playing - it was the weirdest event EVER. There were about 3 people sitting at the bar to our left and about 2 others sitting at tables to our right. And no one was talking. In fact, the only thing you could hear was the faint sound of me and Lincee popping Pepto Bismol tablets into our mouths . . .

After a bit of discussion and debate, Lincee and I decided to NOT jump off the balcony to put ourselves out of our misery and we decided to stick it out. At about that time, our "hostess" finally showed up and directed us to a lounge area where there were tables and couches set up for our evening. The girls each picked a table and sat down at it then the guys each sat down at one of those tables. Our hostess told us that we would have 8 minutes for each of our "mini-dates" and that, when our time was up, she'd ring a bell and the guys would all rotate to the their rights and begin their next mini-date with the next girl. So that's how our night went - 10 guys sat across from us for 8 minutes each and we had our little "mini-dates."

My biggest impression of the night was that, at 5' 7", I was the tallest person in the room, except for one - possibly two - Indian men. I usually have a height requirement with guys - they have to be at least as tall as I am when I'm in my heels - but, as I stood there in my 3" wedges looking around at the tops of their heads, I decided to keep an open mind and give the whole Nicole Kidman/Tom Cruise thing a try. But, alas, Tom Cruise was not there.

It was a fun night but I must say that 8 minutes is not long when you're trying to give someone a glimpse of who you are. I had a hard time knowing how I should open my conversations. "What do you do for a living?" - that seems so mundane. "What kinds of things do you for fun?" - snoooooooze. "Where did you go to school?" - predictable. So I tried to think of some outside-the-box conversation starters but nothing really seemed to work. I thought about talking about a recent burn I sustained on my stomach and the resulting lesson I learned about the dangers of ironing without a shirt on but thought that might be, perhaps, too educational - I mean, who wants to learn a lesson about ironing hazards on a first date? Then I thought maybe I'd give them a glimpse of my inner soul and talk about how one of my favorite things in the world is when the air conditioning vents in the car are at just the right angle and they blow cold air up your shirt sleeves so that your armpits air out. But then I decided against that for obvious reasons - I mean WHO wants to talk about right angles on a date, right?? So, in the end, I just played it safe and went for the predictable. I found out all about their jobs and hobbies and just quietly hoped none of them would go on to sustain an ironing injury that I might have prevented.

Everyone was a little awkward at first but seemed to warm up as the night went on. Unfortunately, one of my first dates - we'll call him "Bob" - had not quite warmed up before he came to my table. He started off with the "What are you hobbies" question but he decided to put a little spin on it. He used a dramatic tone of voice and big hand-gestures and said:

Bob: So what makes you LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE???? What is it that you LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE to do??
Me: Well -
Bob: What is it that makes you want to wake up in the morning and LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE?? Because you know you have to LIIIIIIIIIIIIVE.
Me: Yeah, I -
Bob: We only work to do one thing - LIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!
Me: Right -
Bob: So please tell me that you take time to LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE.
Me: Yeah, I do -
Bob: I want to know what you do to LIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!! Tell me how you LIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!

I was THIS close to reminding him of our 8 minute time-limit so that he didn't continue to waste 2 minutes getting his question out. But I waited patiently through his dramatics and then said "reading." I watched his face drop as he mulled that over and felt quite certain that he did not feel the chemistry with me. Oh well, something tells me I'll LIIIIIIIIIIIIVE . . .

The hobbies question was an interesting one because I definitely saw that some people weren't too honest in what they said. For instance, my LIIIIIIIIIIVE guy told me how he likes to go race his "'Vette" around the racetrack to really LIIIIIIIIIIVE. But when I asked him if he was a thrill-seeker in general, he quickly back-tracked and said that, no, he didn't do anything dangerous because he wants to - you guessed it - LIIIIIIIIIIIVE. Then I talked to another guy who was - how shall I say this? - not the most in-shape guy I've ever seen and he told me how exercising is his favorite thing to do and is a really important part of his life. It was so obvious that that wasn't the truth and I wanted to reach down and pat him on the head and assure him that he didn't have to lie about that with me. But he kept on with it, telling me all about how great exercising is and how he does it morning, noon, and night and blah blah blah. I thought about playing along and telling him that I model and teach pilates on the side but the bell rang and I had to be satisfied with just saying something awesome like "Well . . . way to go, you . . . you just . . . keep pumpin' that iron . . . bud!"

Despite feeling like an Amazonian woman in my (perhaps ill-advised) wedges, I had a great time and am able to declare that, even with its awkward moments, it really was a fun evening. But as all fun evenings must, this one had to end. But, although I didn't find the man of my dreams, it definitely wasn't a wasted evening. I got to spend a few hours meeting some very nice guys and doing something totally new and different, I got to hang out with my friend Lincee and spend lots of time cracking up with her about all the awkwardness, AND I got to air out my armpits on the way home.

And it's moments like that that make me want to me LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE . . .

Toilet inspector

2011-05-11T00:20:00.004-05:00

My sister Erin runs an in-home daycare and watches some of the cutest kids in the world. One of the little girls she watches is named Alana and she is just so precious and says and does the funniest things. Today, she cracked Erin up with a slightly passive aggressive move before she went to the bathroom . . .

So now Erin, understandably, has a complex about the cleanliness of her toilet seat . . .

But at least I have something to blog about!

Kevin in a Bottle

2011-05-09T00:00:00.003-05:00

I've told you about my mom's entertaining late-night phone calls to me when she was taking Ambien. I've also told you about my mom's late night Ambien-induced banana search in a hotel, whiiiiiiiiiiiiich ended her delightful run of Ambien usage. While she was taking Ambien, I was always the one she called in the middle of the night for her crazy chats and I didn't know it at the time, but Erin always secretly wished that my mom would call HER during one of her Ambien hazes. So when my mom quit taking Ambien, it hit Erin particularly hard.

Until the other night.

My mom has been really sick lately and has been taking her really strong prescription cough medicine. She's taken it a million times before and it just knocks her out into a blissful, cough-free sleep. But, for some reason, the other night it affected her in a way that it never has before. And Erin was the lucky recipient of her cough-syrup call . . .

[phone rings at 1:49 a.m.]
Erin: [flying out of bed to grab the phone]
Matt: [flying out of bed to see who died]
Erin: Mom? Is everything okay?
Mom: [in a sweet, childish voice] Hi, Erin. I was just calling to let you know that Kevin is now in charge of handing out the little pink pills. And he lets you have as many as you want - he's REEEEEEEEEAL sweet . . .
Erin: Wait . . . what?
Matt: [to Erin] Everything okay?
Erin: [giving the international sign for "she's crazy"]
Mom: [again in childish voice] Kevin's in charge of the pink pills now and I'm soooooooo glad because it's a big responsibility and it's reeeeeeeeally overwhelming.
Erin: [My mom is NOT tripping on acid. My mom is NOT tripping on acid.] Okaaaaaaay . . . does Kevin give YOU little pink pills?
Mom: Oh yes! He gives me as MANY as I want! He's REAL sweet!
Erin: Yeah, you mentioned that. Ummmm . . . did Kevin give you any pink pills TONIGHT?
Mom: [seriously] No - they're for nausea.
Erin: Oh, silly me . . .
[awkward silence]
Erin: [suddenly worried that my mom's out driving around while tripping on her cough medicine] Where are you now mom? Are you out somewhere?
Mom: [seriously] No, I'm in bed. [then like Erin's the crazy one . . .] I mean, it's almost 2 o'clock in the morning . . .

Erin finally got off the phone with my mom and found Matt in the garage smoking a cigarette, trying to calm his nerves. The next day, she called me to tell me all about Kevin and our mom's apparent hallucinations. I laughed and laughed, glad that the torch had been passed and that Erin was apparently the new recipient of our mom's late-night phone calls.

Until the next day . . .

[phone rings at 2:55 a.m.]
Me: [not startled - I'm a pro at this now . . .] Hello?
Mom: Catherine?
Me: Hi, Mom. Everything okay?
Mom: Yeah - I just wanted to tell you that Kevin does appear to be in the bottle.
Me: [Oh boy . . .] Oh really?
Mom: I was just laying here and all the Irish people were here and they were standing on my bed trying to talk to me about selling my cattle and I kept trying to tell them that I don't HAVE any cattle but they just kept trying to get me to SELL my cattle and I was getting so upset because I wanted to make them some tea but I didn't want to get out of bed because I didn't have my good pants on so I just kept LAYING there.
Me: Well, that doesn't sound very convenient.
Mom: No, it wasn't. But then Kevin came in and he told them that they all needed to get out of my room and let me get some sleep.
Me: That was nice of him.
Mom: Yeah, it was.
Me: That Kevin sounds like quite a guy.
Mom: He is. Anyway, I thought I'd tell you that he's in the bottle now.
Me: Okay. Well, I hope he's comfortable in there . . .

Erin and I both told our mom - and several hundred other people - about these phone calls so now my mom has sworn off her super-powerful cough syrup, as well as Ambien. And that's a big deal because her coughing keeps her awake at night when she's this sick. So she's a little worried about how much rest she'll get in the nights ahead. How will she fall asleep? Who knows. How will she stop coughing? No idea. But that's okay.

Kevin will know what to do.

Must be nice . . .

2011-05-05T00:27:00.002-05:00

We took a lot of road trips when I was a kid and always had a lot of fun. I used to LOVE staying at hotels because it usually meant that we got to swim at the hotel swimming pool. And if there was a hot tub, too - FORGET IT. I'd spend the whole evening jumping from hot tub to cold pool and I'd be completely happy. So, as far as I was concerned, whether there was a swimming pool was the only question worth asking about our accommodations.

But things appear to be a little different with the next generation:

Me: [putting my suitcase in the car for a recent family trip]
Ben: Catchy, what kind of a hotel are we staying in?
Me: Ummmm . . . I don't know, bud.
Ben: Are we staying at a 4-star hotel?
Me: [stunned silence]
Ben: I hope so . . .
Me: Wow.
Ben: Because they're REEEEEEEEEEEEALLY nice.

Well, at least he's not demanding FIVE stars. I mean, that would just be high maintenance . . .

My Aunt Ruby

2011-05-03T00:00:00.002-05:00

My family suffered a sad, sad loss this weekend when my Aunt Ruby (one of my dad's sisters) passed away. She had just been diagnosed with cancer and was taken far too quickly from us - it's still hard to wrap my brain around the fact that she's gone. I was able to speak with her just a few days before she died - she was declining in health but she was able to chat and wanted to talk to me about what music she wanted at her funeral. As you can imagine, it was a very emotional conversation for me and, in true Aunt Ruby form, she kept apologizing for making ME sad . . . she was more concerned about me than she was for herself. Amazing. Before she hung up, she took time to tell me how proud she was of me and how she loved me very much.

I will cherish that phone call for the rest of my life.

And I will cherish another special memory of her, as well. When I was like 6 or 7 years old, Aunt Ruby's church was hosting a Mother/Daughter Day and, alas, she had only two sons. Don't get me wrong - they were GREAT sons. But they made TERRIBLE daughters. So my Aunt Ruby picked me - yes, MEEEEEEEEE - to be her daughter for the day at church. (Hey, Tammy and Erin - remember when Aunt Ruby picked MEEEEEEE and not YOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUU to be her daughter for the Mother/Daughter Day at her church? That was awesome, wasn't it?) Anyway, I remember how excited I was to be invited along on such a special day and was ESPECIALLY excited that I was going to get to sit next to her at church. I got a new dress for the occasion, along with new socks and shoes, and my mom gave me an especially fancy new hairdo. I was VERY excited about showing myself off to Aunt Ruby when she got there.

But can you blame me?? I looked PRECIOUS . . .

I looked so cute, you HARDLY notice the huge cowlick in my bangs, right? . . . Right? . . . RIGHT??

And, apparently, I was equally excited about a new slip that had gotten for such a special day:

I remember waiting for her to pick me up and being just about to jump out of my skin with excitement. Can you tell??

But, by far, the most exciting part of the day - even more exciting than my new dress, my new shoes, AND my new slip - was the fact that I got to spend the day with my Aunt Ruby. All by myself.

And I'll never forget it.

Miss you already, Aunt Ruby . . .

The Good Fight.

2011-04-28T00:00:00.003-05:00

I think that most of you know what I do for a living but, for those who don't, I'm a lawyer and I keep sexually violent predators away from the community. And I LOVE my job.

Work has been so crazy busy lately that I've lost track of lots of other things - like blogging, for instance. I usually do that late at night when I can sit down and dedicate some time to it. But, lately, I've been working on one work project or another from early evening until the wee hours of the morning so I just haven't had much time for anything else. It's been very tiring. And, even though I love my job and am happy to sacrifice my time to fight the good fight, I've been SO ready to get back to my life!!

I had a trial against a pedophile this week and it went pretty quickly. I was planning to go home and celebrate my win - and the break in my busy schedule - by staring blankly at the walls, just because I could. But my sister Tammy needed me to watch her kiddos because she had forgotten that she and her husband had tickets to a play downtown. So I picked my nephew Ben up and took him with me to go pick my niece Emma up from her ballet class. While we were driving to get Emma, one of my friends from work called me to see how my trial had gone. Since I had Ben in the car, I didn't talk about any of the details of the case - he and my nieces know that I deal with "bad guys" but that's the extent of their knowledge about what I do and I intend to keep it that way.

But Ben wanted information. And as soon as I got off the phone, he was asking me questions:

Me: [to friend on phone] Okay - thanks for calling. See you tomorrow! [hang up]
Ben: What did the bad guy do, Catchy?
Me: [oh boy] He was just a really bad guy.
Ben: But what did he do?
Me: Well, he was just a REALLY bad guy.
Ben: Yeah, but what did he dooooooo?
Me: [wow, he's a persistent little . . .] Well . . . [how do I answer this??] . . . he was mean to kids.
Ben: [gasp] REALLY??
Me: Yeah. Can you BELIEVE that?
Ben: [shaking his head in disbelief] No . . .
Me: Me, either.
Ben: What did he do to the kids?
Me: [oh crap] Ummmmm . . . well, he was just really mean to them.
Ben: He WAS??
Me: Yep. Isn't that SO bad?
Ben: Yeah. But what did he do? Was he like [scrunches up his face into a mean face and using his meanest voice] "Hey, kids! Get back inside!"?
Me: Yes! Wasn't that AWFUL??
Ben: [jaw dropped, shocked that such depravity might exist in the world] Yeah. It is, Catchy.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand THAT'S why I do my job, right there - to protect that kind of innocence. And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

But, seriously - these pervs need to stop interfering with my dang blog . . .

I'm baaaaaaaack!!

2011-04-27T00:00:00.001-05:00

You know, I'm not sure if it was because of the stress of the last few weeks of work or if it was exhaustion-induced delirium but I saw this the other day:

And ACTUALLY wondered how many years I'd get for hi-jacking it . . .

MISSED Y'ALL!!

Free and . . . fast??

2011-04-14T00:00:00.001-05:00

I was at the Clinique counter at Dillard's the other day buying some powder and mascara. They often have a free gift that you can get when you purchase a certain dollar amount of product from them. It's usually just a cute make-up bag with some free make-up in it but it's a pretty big deal so they usually have signs up letting you know what the next free gift is and when they'll be giving it away. It never fails that I have to buy my make-up the week BEFORE or the week AFTER the free gift week - NEVER fails. And this week was no different. I was standing at the counter, waiting for the lady to ring me up, and I noticed a little note about reserving one of their upcoming free gifts:

I mean, I'm sure the gift is good and all. I'm just not sure it's worth going Mach 8 to get it . . .

Close, Mom. VERY close.

2011-04-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

This weekend my mom, God love her, brought up the topic of movies. This is always a risk for her because she just cannot remember the names of movies. But it's always entertaining for those of us who are talking to her:

Mom: We haven't been to see a movie in a long time.
Me: I know. And I think there are some good ones out right now that I want to see.
Mom: Yeah. Me, too.
Me: I think Hop is out and I kinda want to see that.
Mom: Yeah. And I REALLY want to see that Lincoln Log movie.
Me: The Lincoln Log movie?
Mom: Yeah. The one with Matt McConaughey or whatever his name is. I've heard it's REALLY good.
Me: You mean, Lincoln LAWYER?
Mom: [rolling eyes] Whateveeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

You know, SOME would argue that there's not a lot of difference between logs and lawyers . . .

I got nothin' . . .

2011-04-12T00:00:00.002-05:00

Man - you would not BELIEVE how busy I've been lately with work!! It's been cuh-razy. It seems like every night lately I've had something that I've had to work on so I haven't been able to sit down and spend a little quality time with Y'ALL. But, finally, I can sit down and blog to my heart's content. So tonight I think I'll write about . . . ummmmm . . . well, I guess I could write about . . . hmmmmmm . . . I could always talk about . . . uuuuuuuh . . . well, crap.

Apparently, a busy work schedule zaps all the creativity out of my head. Which, incidentally, is not a good situation for a lawyer who likes to blog on the side. So I've been sitting here at my computer, staring at the screen and hoping that an idea will come to me. I also spent a significant amount of time pestering my roommate for ideas but she had about as many ideas I did. I was desperate for SOMETHING.

At around midnight I finally decided to search the internet for ideas of things to blog about. So I started my search in what I think was the most logical way - I googled "blog ideas." Lots of websites popped up purporting to have 100 great blog ideas or ideas to take your blog to the next level, etc. I clicked on a few, excited to see what great ideas they might have for me for my blog post tonight. But I have to say that they were decidedly unhelpful.

Here are some of my favorites:

"Write a series of posts." Okay - right away I see that you don't really understand my problem. How can I write a SERIES of posts if I don't even have an idea of just ONE post? Next suggestion, please . . .

"Write a funny post." Seriously? Are you mocking me?

"Make a post for advanced readers." Does blogging about Swiss Cake Rolls and my yard guy count as "advanced?"

"Browse through a thesaurus and see if any synonyms spark ideas for posts." Wow. This is a new low. I mean, I'm a word nerd but I'm not THAT much of a word nerd . . .

"Write a tutorial." This seemed like a promising idea to me at first. But then I realized that I have nothing to tutor anyone about - no skills to teach or information to impart. Well, other than how to stalk your yard guy or how to use a ponytail holder to expand your pants at Thanksgiving dinner or Mexican restaurants. Hey, don't judge - that extra inch comes in handy when you're dealing with pumpkin pie . . .

"Review someone's blog and critique it." Aaaaaaaaaaand then change my blog title to "How to be a big fat JERK . . . "?? That's the worst idea EVER.

"Write about something that is merely 'good' but not 'great.'" Okaaaaaaaay . . . way to shoot for the stars, guys.

But I think my favorite suggestion was this one, along with its explanation:

"Imagine you've written a great article : This might sound a little strange. I sometimes imagine I have written a fantastic article and it’s gone viral, I try and hone in, in my mind's eye, and see what the article was and what everyone is talking about. You’ll be surprised what comes up." No, no - don't be silly. It doesn't sound strange. And I'd love to do it, I really would. Because, honestly, it doesn't sound crazy at ALL. It's just that, you see, well . . . I . . . I . . . I need to read my thesaurus. Yeah - that's it. Soooooooooo . . . you go figure out what all the commotion is with that imaginary article in your mind's eye - don't let me stop you.

Oooooooor impede you . . . Or halt you . . . or obstruct you . . . or hinder you . . .

Mr. Meanor

2011-04-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

One of my friends from work sent me a picture of a sign at a courthouse in Dallas:

Now, I don't mean to insinuate that "misdemeanor" is SUCH an elementary word that everyone should know how to spell it. But don't you think that if it's gonna be spelled correctly ANYWHERE, it would be in a courthouse??

Stinkin' lawyers . . .

So it's not just me . . .

2011-04-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

A few years ago, the guy who had been doing my yard just stopped coming. When I tried to call him, I found out that: 1) the number I had was for his business cell for his REAL job, 2) he had been fired from said REAL job, and 3) I had no way of contacting him. I asked around and a friend of mine gave me the number for HER yard people so I called them and asked if they'd come by and give me a quote for doing my yard. That guy told me he would come over to give me an estimate and then he called me 10 times asking for directions and then just never showed up. It was a bad day for me.

Until . . .

I called my sister Erin and asked her if she liked the guy who cut her grass and, if so, could I have his phone number. And that's when I called Gustavo and he came right over, gave me a quote, and started being my yard guy/"boyfriend" (what? He doesn't have to KNOW he's my boyfriend . . . GAH.). Little did I know that such a minor, mundane thing as switching yard guys would lead to to the birth of my inner stalker.

Who knew??

Erin, like me, thinks Gustavo is super sweet so she understands my little crush. However, UNlike me, she's married and doesn't spend her time calling him "Gusty" or staring out the window watching him trim a Crepe Myrtle.

How BORING is married life, right??

ANYWAY, she sent me a picture the other day that I thought was awesome. She has an in-house daycare and has lots of SUPER cute kiddos she watches. And the other day, when Gustavo was there mowing Erin's yard, one of the kids showed that he is a boy after my own heart:

Man. You have NO idea how jealous I am that he can get away with this. I bet no one would call HIM "strange" or "weird" or "psycho stalker." Dang double standard.

[sigh]

I wonder if he's old enough to handle a high-speed camera . . .

Ben cuts to the chase.

2011-03-28T00:56:00.002-05:00

I found out last week that my seven-year-old nephew, Ben, has been learning about animals in his home-school lessons. How did I find that out, you ask? Because my sister told me about this conversation that she had with him:

Ben: [pensively] Mommy, when will Catchy marry?
Tammy: Well, when God brings the right person into her life, I guess.
Ben: Oh. [mulling that over] Well, don't you think that she should go ahead and mate?
Tammy: [chokes on Dr. Pepper]

Man . . . forget online dating - I'm putting Ben in charge of things for a while!

More random thoughts by Avery.

2011-03-24T00:00:00.000-05:00

At the beginning of Spring Break, my sisters and I decided to meet at my mom's one evening to watch a DVD. I was planning to have cereal for dinner (don't be jealous) but needed a banana to put in it so I called my sister Erin to ask if she would bring a banana to my mom's. I was worried that she would forget, so I sent her a text a while later asking her to have my eight-year-old niece Savannah get me the banana because I knew that Savannah wouldn't forget. I call Savannah "Nana Nut" so my SUPER clever text said "Can you have Nana Nut bring me a nana??"

[pause for you to discuss my cleverness]

ANYWAY, apparently Savannah thought that my text was hilarious (well, naturally . . .) and, while Erin and the kids were on their way to my mom's, Savannah started this conversation:

Savannah: I have a good name for nicknames.
Erin: What do you mean?
Savannah: Well, people can make lots of nicknames out of my name. Like Catchy calls me Nana Nut . . . and GaGa calls me Nana . . . and Emma calls me Vanna . . . and some kids at school call me Sav . . .
Erin: Yeah - you're right!
Avery (5 years old): Yeah, and my name is good, too. Catchy calls me Avesy, Tammy calls me Aves, people call me Avey . . .
Erin: That's true!
Savannah: [bringing the conversation back to her . . .] I like the name "Sav." I think you could just name a little girl "Sav." I think that would be pretty.
Erin: [picking up the hint] Do you want us to call you Sav more often? Would you like that?
Savannah: Yeah.
Avery: Yeah - and I think you should call me "Abby."
[confused silence]
Savannah: Okaaaaaaaaaaay. Ummmmm . . . that has nothing to do with your name . . .
Avery: Yes, it does. It starts with an A and ends with a Y.

Makes sense to me. I think . . .

And she's serious about it. In fact, later that week they were at a Which Wich (sandwich shop where you fill out an order form and then they call your name when your order is ready) and, when Avery filled out her order form and handed it Erin, she discovered just HOW serious Avery is about this whole Abby thing . . .

But I'm not sure what's more upsetting - the fact that she wants to change her name or the fact that she chose juice over a soda.

I have clearly failed her as an aunt . . .

Murdering the dead - a first degree syntax crime.

2011-03-22T00:00:00.000-05:00

My sister Tammy sent me this picture that she took off of her television the other day. It's a good example of how important sentence structure is . . .

So two things went terribly wrong here: 1) she got convicted for "murdering her husband shortly after his death" (a crime, incidentally, that is punished by lethal injection after you're executed) and 2) she got convicted when she got sentenced instead of getting sentenced when she got convicted. This is either a poorly worded sentence or a case out of Louisiana.

In either case, someone have her call me - I know a good lawyer . . .

Save the urinal!

2011-03-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

I've told y'all before about how I use a tracker service for my blog that tells me, among other things, how many people look at my website each day, what cities they're located in, and what search terms people are using to land on my blog. I sometimes like to entertain myself by looking at the different search terms that people have used - yes, I'm easily entertained. Now most of the time, people use pretty predictable terms like "catherine chronicles" or some variation of that, but SOMETIMES I get treated to a little dose of crazy.

For instance . . .

1) "to see a horse in human flesh, descending on a hammock through the air": Now, I wrote about dream interpretations once and talked about an interpretation I had seen for a horse in human flesh descending on a hammock. So I get why that search term landed someone on my website - that's not the disturbing part. What concerns me is that someone out there obviously just had a dream about a freakin' horse in human flesh, descending on a hammock through the air. Seriously, people - this is unsettling.

2) "clip art dropping man in toilet": Wow - who knew that the Mafia used clip art? Interesting. Veeeeeeeeery interesting . . .

3) "my dog ate a swiss cake roll will it kill her": Nooooooooo, silly! Swiss Cake Rolls can't kill anything but skinny people. If your dog is acting a little unusual, don't worry - it's just experiencing sheer bliss.

4) "evil elves" and "reindeer lickers": Someone out there has a very different understanding of what happens in the North Pole than I do . . .

5) "meaning of jumping on Ding Dong bandwagon": I've never heard of jumping on a Ding Dong bandwagon but I'm here to tell ya, folks - if ever there was a bandwagon for me jump on, that would be it.

6) "worst idea ever catherine chronicles": Shutyerface.

7) "who me clip art": If this is not a toddler running a google search then I think this person needs to focus on some good grammar clip art right now and THEN worry about discovering who he or she is . . .

8) "rolled my ankle on a curb": Okay, well . . . thanks for letting me know. Hope it's better . . . ?

9) "pooped doorless stall restrooms" and "pooping no door on stall": Wow. This is something people search the internet about?

10) "picture urinal conservation sign": Interesting. I wasn't aware that there was a urinal conservation effort. Who knew?

So those are the latest in the crazy searches that somehow led people to my page. But, hey - I'm not judging . . . I don't care how they get here, just as long as they get here!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to do a little searching about that Ding Dong bandwagon . . .

Irrespons able editing . . .

2011-03-17T00:00:00.001-05:00

One of my friends sent me this picture of a sign at a dry cleaners in Conroe:

But they ARE respons able for the twitching in my right eye . . .

We ARE talking about my A/C, aren't we??

2011-03-15T00:41:00.005-05:00

While we were out driving this weekend, I saw a business with a name that was NOT well thought-out . . .

I'm glad this guy has embraced his last name but, frankly, I'm not sure it's an appropriate choice for a business name. And, come to think of it, I'm not sure the twin peaks on the sign are exactly appropriate, either . . .

Finger-lickin' good.

2011-03-14T00:00:00.001-05:00

My 8-year-old niece, Savannah, just recently started playing in a softball league. She was struggling at first with her batting but she has been working really hard and has improved so much. In fact, the other day at her game, she actually had a home run! It was a BIG deal. In fact, my sister Erin was cheering so enthusiastically that she ALMOST dropped her nachos . . . and we Palmores take our nachos VERY seriously.

ANYWAY, to celebrate her big night, Erin and Matt took her out for a celebratory dinner. Someone suggested that they go to Chili's but Savannah quickly quashed that idea . . . until she remembered how much she loves their ribs. So Chili's it was.

Pretty soon, Savannah was covered in barbecue sauce and eating ribs with gusto. About a rib-and-a-half into her feast, she stopped eating, looked up, and had this conversation:

Savannah: [rib mid-air, barbecue sauce from ear to ear] So . . . are these like a human's ribs?
Erin and Matt: [stunned silence]
Savannah: [eating the ribs with gusto again, unconcerned about the answer to her question]
Erin: [laughing] Are they a HUMAN'S ribs?
Savannah: [chowing down] Yeah.
Erin: [laughing harder] No, honey. They're from a pig.
Savannah: [rib in mouth] Oh. They're good.
Erin: Would that have bothered you? If it was a human's rib?
Savannah: [shrugging her shoulders and licking her fingers] They're gooooood . . .
Matt: Wow.

So we now know THAT disturbing fact about Savannah. But, as funny as that story is, let's be honest - we're all gonna be a little uneasy the next time she says she's hungry and there's no food around.

Fortunately, I think I'm safe - MY ribs haven't been visible to the naked eye for years . . .

Just my luck.

2011-03-09T00:44:00.004-06:00

This morning, after I got out of the shower, I slipped in my bathroom and fell. Well "fell" really isn't the right word - it was more like a "feet flying in the air/sliding across a wet floor/slamming into the wall head-first" kind of thing. In fact, it was EXACTLY that kind of thing. And I won't disturb you with details on how far along in the dressing-myself process I was or was not but, suffice it to say, I was not prepared and/or appropriately dressed for that little adventure. One minute I'm singing along contentedly to the radio and the next minute I'm riding a Slip N Slide across my bathroom floor, thinking "Is this a bad omen?"

I should have just gone back to bed.

But I didn't. Instead, I went on to court for a scheduling conference on a new case that I just filed against a new perv. As I was walking toward the courtroom, one of the heels on my shoes slipped on the slick tile and threatened to roll my ankle and/or flip me onto my backside. My arms flailed frantically and, somehow, I was able to catch myself. I looked around quickly to see if anyone had seen me so that I'd know if I needed to kill any eye-witnesses in order to protect my dignity. But no one had seen so I took a deep breath, pulled myself together, and walked on into the courtroom thinking, "Was that ANOTHER bad omen?"

I should have just gone back home right then and there.

But I didn't. I went on into the courtroom and was informed by my boss of some issues that had just come up on one of my cases. They weren't big issues but they were enough to make my eye start twitching. And I knew right then that my heel-slipping and my "bathroom-turned-water-slide" were more than just accidents - they were messages from the Lord Himself telling me to GO HOME.

But did I? No.

I went on to work and, when it was time to decide where to go to lunch, we decided to do Double Dave's because it was Fat Tuesday and we needed to celebrate it in style. All I wanted at Double Dave's were the pizza rolls and the chocolate chip pizza so, as soon as I paid, I went to the buffet, picked up a plate, and found myself staring at an empty spot where the pizza rolls should have been.

Oooooooooooof course.

But, eventually, they put the pizza rolls on the buffet and I ate to my heart's content. And when it was dessert time, I practically hurdled over the other tables to get back up to the buffet for my chocolate chip pizza yumminess. But, wouldn't you know it, there was none there. That's when I shook my fists at the sky and shouted "WHY????" . . . until the lady brought a fresh chocolate chip pizza out to us.

I'm not a superstitious person but I must say that, looking back on my day, I think maybe I should have taken the hint and just crawled back into bed. But I didn't do it because there was a light at the end of my tunnel . . . I was getting together with some of the girls from work for a movie night. I always have fun with those girls so I knew that, if I could just get through the day and not get myself killed, I'd have a fun night hanging out with them.

So I got to my movie night at my friend Audrie's place. As I walked to her apartment, I felt relief that the day was over and that I could finally just relax and watch a movie with my friends. So that's what I did - I relaxed, laughed with my friends, laid on a couch, and watched a movie. No cares in the world - it was the perfect ending to a day that didn't start out quite right.

After the movie was over, I left Audrie's apartment and my friend Erin and I walked toward where our cars were parked. Aaaaaaaaaaand that's when I saw that my car had been towed.

Yep.

Towed.

So I stood around the parking lot for about 45 minutes trying to figure out where my car was and how much it was going to cost me. I knew that a company called "Quik Tow" had towed it because some residents had complained that there weren't any spots available by their units for them to park in. And, although there were no signs around ANYWHERE indicating that visitors were not allowed to park in those spaces, my car was towed because I didn't have a parking permit for the complex.

It was awesome.

So, after I found out where my car was and that it was going to cost me $200, I headed over to the storage lot to pick her up. A driver met me there to do the paperwork, run my credit card, and return my car to me. When I gave him my driver's license, he saw my badge for work and asked me about it. I told him what I do for a living and then he said something amazing to me: "I'd like to extend you a professional courtesy and release your car to you free of charge."

I stood there dumbstruck while he explained that he really appreciated what I do for a living and that he wanted to do that for me. I wanted to start kissing the bullet-proof glass between us but felt that was inappropriate and might work against me in the end. So, instead, I just thanked him profusely and got his card from him. And I thought I'd pass his name along to you all so that you could give him a call if you ever need a wrecker: his name is Joe with "Quik Tow" (yes, I'm spelling that right) and his number is 713-409-9420. He really was a nice man and he DEFINITELY didn't need to do that for me so I hope you'll keep him in mind the next time you lock your keys in your car or need a tow truck for some reason.

So, imagine that - a bad day made right by a tow truck driver of all people. I mean, that's not a profession that gets to bring a lot of joy to people's lives, you know? But Joe brought joy to mine, that's for sure. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate that.

So now I'm heading to bed to put an official end to a crazy day that started out with a bruised ego on my bathroom floor and ends with a happy heart and a car in my driveway . . .

Message erased.

2011-03-08T00:00:00.003-06:00

I consider myself to be a peace-loving person, I really do. And I'd like to think that most of the time people would find me to be mild-mannered, calm, and in control of my emotions. There's just not a lot that will ruffle my feathers.

But there is one thing that will whip me up into a murderous rage in mere seconds. And it happened to me this weekend . . .

Me: [dialing phone number of friend]
Phone: [ring! ring!]
Me: [waiting]
Phone: [ring! ring! ring! ring!]
Me: [still waiting]
Phone: Hi. This is Missy. I'm sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message and I'll return your call as soon as I can. Thanks! [pause] To leave a call-back number, press 5. To leave a message, wait for the tone.
Me: [yeah, I know.]
Phone: When you are finished with this call, hang up or press "star."
Me: [I knooooooooooooooooooow!!]
Phone: [beep!]
Me: Hey, Missy! It's Catherine. I saw that I missed your call so I was just calling you ba-
Phone: Message erased. To re-record your message, press 3. To end this call, hang up or press "star."
Me: [breathe, Catherine.] [pressing 3 . . .]
Phone: Record your message after the tone. [beep!]
Me: Hey, Missy! It's Catherine. I saw that I missed your call earlier today and I'm so sorry that I'm just now calling you back but I -
Phone: If you are happy with your message, press 1. To erase and re-record, press 3. To end this call, hang up or press "star."
Me: [(through gritted teeth . . .) Stupid son of a . . .] [pressing 3 angrily]
Phone: Record your message after the tone. [beep!]
Me: Hi, Missy! It's Catherine. Sorry that I'm just now getting back to you - it's been kind of a crazy day. Call me when -
Phone: Message erased. To re-record your message, press -
Me: [(yelling into phone) IHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOUIHATEYOU!!] [pressing 3 . . . begrudgingly.]
Phone: [beep!]
Me: Hi, Missy! It's Catherine. Call me.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand that's when I start hitting the star button manically, while pursing my lips, gritting my teeth, and cursing quietly under my breath.

So next time I'm just texting Missy . . .

Random Thoughts by Avery

2011-03-04T01:03:00.003-06:00

I had my nieces Emma (10) and Avery (5) in the car with me at one point this weekend and we were chatting about what they had each done that day. Emma was telling me a story about their dog Marley and, apparently, Avery got a little bored with it . . .

Me: What did you do today, Emma?
Emma: We went out to Niblets [that's a side business/flea market for vendors that my brother-in-law is starting - click here if you want to know more!] and there's a big field so we let Marley out to run around.
Me: Oh, I bet he thought THAT was super fun.
Emma: Yeah. But we didn't worry about closing the gate because he doesn't usually like traffic so he stays away from it. But you know what happened, Catchy?
Me: No - what happened?
Emma: He ran out of the gate and was in the ditch RIGHT by that busy street there! We were so worried that we has gonna run into the street but he didn't. So we brought him back in and then we definitely closed the gate after that!
Me: Man! I'm so glad he didn't get hurt!
Emma: Yeah - me, too. I mean, he was REALLY close to the street. I was so scared that he-
Avery: When you eat beans, you fart.
[long, stunned silence]
Emma: Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Wow. That was really random.
Avery: Yeah. [matter of factly] I know it was.
Me: [laughing] Avery - you are one funny girl.
Avery: Yeah. I know I am.
Me: [laughing harder]
Avery: What? I do.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand then the rest of the ride turned into an Emma-Avery backseat duet of "Beans beans, they're good for your heart . . ." This was a turn of events I had not anticipated - one minute I'm talking to my nieces about their days and the next minute I'm feeding them lyrics and saying things like "No, no - it's "the more you fart the better you FEEL . . ."

But at least I learned two things about Avery during this little exchange: 1) she will never be accused of being too humble and 2) she doesn't give a fart about Marley . . .

So much for positive reinforcement.

2011-03-02T00:00:00.001-06:00

I recently started watching a show called "Heavy" on A&E. It's a show about people who have a lot of weight to lose so they go to a weight-loss facility for radical transformations. Each episode follows two people through their 6 month weight loss program. It's a pretty cool show - I find myself tearing up at least once per episode because these people really have to deal with a lot of different emotions as they're learning this new way of life. It's pretty emotional.

I'd like to say that it's been a really inspiring show that has given me renewed motivation for eating healthy and exercising regularly but, the truth is, it hasn't always had that effect. Sometimes I watch it and feel SUPER motivated, that's true. But more often than not, I find myself looking down at my belly and thinking "Man! I'm good . . . " It's usually on those nights that I sit on the couch eating Cheetos and saying something like "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang that guy's fat!"

What? I love Cheetos. What can I say?

Anyway, the other day I was watching the show and I noticed something. At the beginning of each episode, they have the two patients weigh in for their starting weights. These are always big numbers - very rarely under 300 lbs. So it's a really tough moment for the two people who will be trying to lose weight - they're usually embarrassed by the number that pops up on the digital scale for all the nation to read. But the worst part about it is that the scale measures the person's "gross weight" but, unfortunately, due to some poor planning by the designers of this scale, the screen reads a little insensitively:

Someone did NOT think that through. I mean, it might as well say "EWWW" or "OMG" or "Hurry - get off before I break."

Think, people. Think.

And pass the Cheetos . . .

And the nominations for Best Hosts are . . .

2011-02-28T00:45:00.002-06:00

I watched the Oscars tonight with my mom and my sisters - that's been our tradition for a while now. We show up at my mom's with snacks, order pizza, and watch the show together. It's a lot of fun to watch the Oscars with my family because 1) we're all pretty vocal about stuff and 2) my mom and sisters are funny so they keep it entertaining.

Which is something that Anne Hathaway and James Franco did NOT do tonight . . .

Poor Anne and James - it was such an add pairing, don't you think? And Anne was trying her darndest to make it work while James, it appeared, was trying his darndest to stay high. There were some funny moments but there were also lots of awkward moments that definitely overshadowed anything good. From some of Anne Hathaway's comments, I gathered that they had been asked to host because they appealed to a younger demographic. And that's when I had what I think is the best idea EVER: My family should host the Oscars.

Now hear me out - this is a better idea than you might think. This is my proposal: put family's annual Oscars-watching party on stage. Put some mics on my mom and my sisters and I, put us on couches on-stage in our jeans and t-shirts, let us eat the snacks we brought with us, and listen to us comment and discuss as we watch the show. What would this format bring to the table? Well, it would give the viewers at home something to relate to. I mean, we don't all have sparkly gowns and rented jewelry that come with bodyguards. But we DO all have opinions and comments about the show, the fashion, and the speeches. I think it could be hilarious.

And if we'd done it this year, we'd have been able to share these priceless moments with you:

1. When Melissa Leo dropped the F-bomb the whole world could have seen my mom knitting her eyebrows, putting her hand over her heart, and asking loudly "what'd she say???" as my sisters and I tried to act like we hadn't CLEARLY read Melissa's lips. And then the viewing audience would be treated to my mom shaking her head for a good 10 minutes after that and saying things like "Well, I don't like HER anymore. I wish she hadn't won it now. What a tramp." for the next hour. Put a mic on my mom and you'd seriously reduce the amount of profanity on the stage throughout the evening . . .

2. When they played the old scores from some of the old movies, the viewers at home could have played along with my mom and sisters and I as we tried to guess which movies the songs came from. They could have yelled out "Gone With the Wind!" or "Star Wars!" or "ET!" right along with us. Of course, when my mom, who is historically bad at remembering movie names, yelled out "3rd Encounters of a Different Kind!" she'd have been on her own. But the viewing public needs to be treated to classic Nora moments like that, don't you think?

3. When James Franco made an inappropriate comment about movie titles being offensive and then named "Winter's Bone," "Rabbit Hole," and "How to Train Your Dragon," the camera could have cut to my family on-stage so that everyone could see my mom shaking her head and my sisters and I sitting perfectly straight with eyes forward and butts clenched, trying not to make eye contact with her.

4. Viewers could have heard first-hand my mom asking questions like "So . . . does it go Iron Man and THEN Iron Man 2?" I mean, how are you NOT supposed to answer that sarcastically?

5. Put mics on us and you definitely would have heard a standard Oscar-party tradition: trying to guess the winners before they're announced. I mean, how awesome would that be to hear some famous person saying "And the Oscar goes to . . ." only to be interrupted by my mom and sisters shouting out our guesses from stage left and trying to make sure that we blurt it out before the actual winner is announced?

6. Viewers at home could have seen my sisters and I curled in the fetal position during Kirk Douglas's appearance. And I daresay they would have all related to us in that moment . . .

7. My mom's mic would have picked up her saying "That's stupid." after ALMOST every speech that was given. Now maybe that would be a little harsh to broadcast in some cases. But, let's be honest, some of these people need to know that their speeches are stupid. Nothing like a dose of Nora to keep them grounded.

I know we need to iron out some of the details but I think it's a winner idea overall. I mean, I enjoy watching the Oscars but, let's be honest, it could use an infusion of reality, don't you think? A little reminder that there are actual people watching this at home in their jeans and t-shirts, eating pizza rolls, and fast-forwarding through boring acceptance speeches. I think having immediate feedback on-stage from normal people like us would be a good thing.

So I nominate my family for the job. And if the Academy likes this idea and calls me up to offer us the hosting gig, I promise I'll keep my acceptance speech short.

Otherwise my mom will think it's stupid.

Should we be concerned?

2011-02-22T00:26:00.003-06:00

I'm in trial this week and wasn't planning on posting anything until after my trial is over. BUT my mom sent me a picture that she took today that I thought I'd share real quick:

This is either very poorly-worded marketing OR there's a serial killer out there who doesn't think he's getting enough attention.

And, frankly, I'm not sure which is worse.

Avery's lesson

2011-02-18T00:00:00.003-06:00

My sister Erin was driving the other day with her 5-year-old daughter, Avery. As they were chatting, Avery gave my sister this little lesson . . .

Avery: Mommy, Emma doesn't like Red Robin!
Erin: She doesn't?
Avery: No! That is SO weird.
Erin: It IS.
Avery: She's like un-American.
Erin: Oh??
Avery: Yeah.
Erin: Well, if she's un-American, what is she?
Avery: [thinking this through] She's like . . . a Mexico.
Erin: "A Mexico?"
Avery: Yeah.
Erin: Well, what if someone from Mexico doesn't like Red Robin? What would THEY be?
Avery: I guess they would be . . . un-Amexico . . .

Well, I don't like Red Robin so I guess I'm "a Mexico." And that's alright by me because it gets me THAT much closer to Gustavo . . .

Think I'll pass . . .

2011-02-16T00:00:00.002-06:00

My friends and I went to lunch today at a new taco place in Huntsville. On our way there, I saw a sign advertising a new barbecue stand - or at least one I'd never seen before. Since I'm a huge barbecue fan, this sign caught my eye. AND since we've exhausted all the interesting places to eat in Huntsville, I got pretty excited about this new potential lunch destination - we are always looking for another place to throw into the weekly rotation. But my excitement quickly died down when I looked more closely and saw the signage on the place . . .

And I found myself wondering: "What's a frickin' frisket?"

Whatever it is, I think I'll pass.

How will I know?

2011-02-15T00:00:00.000-06:00

As the day dawned on Valentine's Day this year, I found myself thinking -

Wait - who am I kidding? I haven't seen dawn in a LONG time. Let me try this again . . .

As my alarm went off for the 10th time on Valentine's Day this year, I found myself pondering three distinct and equally important thoughts:

1) You can never have too many pink or red shirts in your closet.
2) Candy-centric holidays make me proud to be an American.
3) Why does cupid have to use an arrow? It seems so needlessly violent.

After I spent a fair amount of time dwelling on these things, my attention turned predictably to the obvious topic of the day: LOVE.

As a single person, I get lots of advice on love from friends of mine who are married or who have otherwise found their Valentines. These friends want nothing more than to see me find someone special so they try to help by offering instructive guidance like "be yourself" or "love comes when you least expect it" or "try hiring an escort" . . . things like that. But the one piece of advice that I most often hear from my friends? "When you find the right person, you'll know."

I'll know.

Are you sure?

You see, "knowing" is the part that I think is the most stressful in this crazy search for love. How will I know? I mean, I don't want - Excuse me . . . I need to take a quick break here to sing the Whitney Houston song that just popped in my head. You can join me if you want to . . .

Okay - I'm back. As I was saying . . . How will I know? I don't want to marry just ANYONE, you know? I mean, I don't want to make the mistake of marrying a guy just because he's super hot with rock-hard abs, stands to inherit a vast fortune, and feeds the homeless on the weekends. Well . . . actually, yes I do. But other than THAT guy, I don't want to marry just ANYONE. So I decided to spend some time this Valentine's Day thinking of some things that would help me KNOW if I've found the right guy - you know, traits or personality characteristics to look for as I search for the love of my life. And after spending a good, long 10 minutes in deep thought, I came up with this list of 10 tell-tale signs of true love to help me know when I've found "the one" . . .

1) An Australian accent. This may sound a bit shallow but, let's be honest, I'd marry a total jerk if he punctuated his jerky comments to me with the word "mate." For instance . . . if a guy said to me "You're waste of space," I'd totally dump him. But if he said "You're a waste of space, mate" I'd swoon and giggle and start craving a Bloomin' Onion. I'm a sucker for that accent. And for fried onions.

2) A dual-allergy to cats and seafood. I'll tell you right now, if I ever meet a man with this combination of allergies, I'd declare him to be my soulmate and marry him on the spot. I honestly don't know that I could ever love a man enough to clean a litter box for him. Or be within 10 feet of him after he eats shrimp. So a life without cats and seafood would be delightful, thankyouverymuch.

3) Says the words "You know, I wish you'd put on a little more weight." I think the Heavens would part, a light would shine upon him, and the Hallelujah Chorus would rain down from on-high. I'd kiss him and then and there declare my undying love for him. And then I'd suggest a snack-run to Taco Bell to be followed by a Blizzard-run to Dairy Queen.

4) He's Mike Rowe. I love that man. Seriously.

5) Has never used the words "I" and "boo-hooed" together in any sentence. Do I really need to elaborate here?

6) Thinks it's sexy when a girl snorts when she laughs. I'm not sure this man actually exists but, if he does, I call dibs, okay?

7) Thinks it's sexy when a girl has no lips. Look - we can't all be Angelina Jolie, you know? Some of us are called upon to balance out the universe. But at least I haven't resorted to collagen - that's worth something, isn't it? I mean, they're 100% natural. They're just not 100% there . . .

8) His name is Gustavo and he mows my yard. Bestill mi beating corazon! I just hope I never have to choose between Gustavo and Mike Rowe . . .

9) Sends me a dozen Swiss Cake Rolls instead of a dozen roses. I seriously would not be able to adequately express my love for a man who did that. I would spend the rest of my life trying but I would fail miserably - I mean, there would just be no words to convey my feelings. In fact, I'm getting a little choked up just thinking about it . . .

10) Not frightened by a random chin hair. Look - I hate to admit it but I get the random chin hair now and again. It's not my most attractive quality but, hey - there it is. My friend Alana told me once that she'd read a quote by a lady named Janette Barber who said: "I refuse to think of them as chin hairs - I think of them as stray eyebrows." I like her way of thinking and have tried to adopt it but the fact of the matter is that they're NOT stray eyebrows - they're freakin' chin hairs. I try to stay a step ahead of them and pluck them when I see them but, at least once a month, I look in my review mirror and see one that a) I somehow missed and b) is so long that I could actually string some beads on it and wear it as an accessory. It's quite distressing. So distressing, in fact, that my best friend and I have actually made a pact that if either of us goes into a coma of some sort, the other one will make sure that no chin hairs go unplucked - these are the bonds of true friendship. So if I ever meet a man who can accidentally see a random chin hair on me and not be alarmed at the sight of it, I shall 1) run quickly to go pluck said random chin hair and 2) declare him to be the love of my life.

It's true that the search for love can be a bit scary and unnerving. But I think that, with the help of this list, my own search will be more focused and a little less daunting. I won't find myself worrying about whether I'm making the right choice. And that'll free me up to worry a little more about more important things . . .

Seriously - does cupid HAVE to use arrows?

Irony in a nutshell.

2011-02-11T00:00:00.002-06:00

What a week! I had another trial this week and have spent the last few days being a lawyer instead of a writer . . . hope you missed me lots!!

After my trial was over, I met my mom, Erin, and Erin's girls at Toys R Us, where they were looking for some . . . well . . . toys. We were over in the doll/Barbie section when my mom called Savannah and Avery over to show them a Justin Bieber doll and a Taylor Swift doll that she had spotted.

Mom [on the next aisle]: That's a Justin Bieber doll! Oh and look! That one's Loretta Swift or whatever her name is!
[a few seconds later, Savannah comes over to my aisle . . .]
Savannah: [confused look on her face] Catchy, Dearsie just said "There's Justin Bieber. And there's "Luluella Swift" or something like that.

Me: Oh my goodness. That Dearsie - she's so crazy, isn't she?
Savannah: Yeah. [shrugging her shoulders] She just always says it wrong.
Erin: Yep. That's Dearsie in a . . . in a . . . [puzzled look on her face] . . . a . . . [looking at me for help] . . . a box?
Me: Ummmm . . . try "nutshell."
Erin: Yeah - that's it.
Me: No - that's IRONY.

My family never lets me down!!

The most worst grammar . . .

2011-02-09T00:00:00.000-06:00

My sister Tammy sent me a text the other day with the following message and picture:

"Forget gratuitous violence - video games are bad for GRAMMAR!!"

Seriously, Wii?? Seriously??

My Mexican adventures.

2011-02-04T00:00:00.001-06:00

I spent some time tonight looking at some pictures from the cruise my family and I took this Christmas and it made me realize that I never finished telling y'all about our time there. I mean, I told you about all the grammar and spelling mistakes I found on the trip (after all, that was the most important information to relate to you immediately upon my return . . .) but I never told you about what we did when we were in Mexico. So allow me to rectify that . . .

Our first trip off the boat and into Mexico was at a town called Progresso. Nothing too exciting there but we DID go into Merida, which is the capital city of the Yucatan. On our drive to and from Merida, we saw some signs that were a little alarming at first . . .

But, once we were able to stop giggling long enough, we figured out that this is the Mexican way of letting you know that you're coming up to a speed bump.

Guess they have C-cup speed bumps in Mexico . . . ?

As we were driving through the city, we saw that there were lots of police officers standing around holding machine guns. It was really disconcerting and very strange. Later, our tour guide explained to us that there was really no violence in Merida at all. My mom took the SUPER non-confrontational approach with him and said "Well, if you don't have any violence, why are there police standing around with machine guns?" Because I was unsure about whether our tour guide was affiliated with any drug cartels, I began trying to distance myself from my mom by talking to other passengers in a loud voice, saying things like "Who is that crazy lady who's asking all the questions?" or " I think SOMEONE might be a little loca, riiiiiiiiiiiiight?" or "¿Cómo se dice 'drug lords rule' en español?" Things like that. And I think it worked . . .

The next day we went to Cozumel and spent the day at the beach. The weather TRIED to cooperate with us but it was still just a tad on the cool side because the sun kept hiding behind the clouds. But it was really a beautiful day to spend on a beautiful beach. They had a trampoline in the water and some inflatable slides so the kids had a blast running in and out of the water and playing on the equipment. But the water was too cold for me. So, instead, I went parasailing.

Yep. Parasailing.

It was pretty cool to be floating above the ocean, getting a bird's-eye view of the world. But I was too scared to let go of the parachute straps long enough to really take any pictures. So, consequently, the best shot I got was this:

But, as I was up there longer, I started to feel more and more comfortable and safe - I mean, it was just a nice, relaxing ride. That's all - nothing too dangerous or scary. Just nice and relaxing. Aaaaaaaaand just as I was getting my courage up to let go of the straps and totally relax, I happened to read the warning label on my harness:

I mean, I appreciate the need for a warning label. But starting it off with "We are compelled to warn all who use this product that by so doing life and limb are endangered" seems like a bit much, don't you think? And then, as if to mock me as I float hundreds of feet in the air, it tells me to consult the owner's manual. CONSULT THE OWNER'S MANUAL? Is that sarcasm? Are they trying to be funny?? Dang lawyers . . .

I think my favorite part of parasailing is the fact that, when I came back down, my mom was waiting for me on the pier and had decided that SHE wanted to try it, too.

My mom.

Parasailing.

So in one of the most shocking turn of events of the trip, my mom went off in a boat, strapped herself to a parachute, and flew over Cozumel. If you know anything about my mom, you'd understand that this was a big stinkin' deal. I mean, first of all, she can't swim and is afraid of the water. This is the woman who is convinced that she'd drown if she fell into her 5 foot pool because she'd get disoriented as to which way was up and which was down and, consequently, wouldn't know which way to swim. So flying over the ocean was a big deal for her. And, second, she's usually so focused on all the ways any given activity could end in a tragic death. So I was shocked that, rather than shaking her head and denouncing it as a death trap, she actually WANTED to do it at all.

And then I was shocked that she did it.

She decided to take Erin with her so they rode tandem. One of my favorite lines of the trip came from Erin after she and my mom got back from their parasailing adventure:

Mom: Weren't you scared that we were going to drop into the water?
Erin: No - not at all.
Mom: You weren't?? I was. I kept thinking that if we dropped, I'd have to figure out how to get the parachute off of me so it wouldn't pull me under.
Erin: Oh no - I wasn't worried about that. I was just thinking how I'd have to get the parachute off so that I could swim after you and tell you which way to swim . . .

But as fun as it was to have my mom parasailing in Mexico, I have to admit that it shook the very foundation of my world a little bit. And when we got back home, I felt myself really struggling with it. I mean, if I can't count on my mom to rattle off three tragic parasailing death stories as I strap on a parachute and take off in a boat, what CAN I count on?? Has my whole life been a lie? Has HER whole life been a lie?? Is she going to take up scuba diving or skydiving or bull riding next?

I was sitting in my living room pondering these life-altering questions when my phone rang:

Me: Hey, mom!
Mom: Catchy - I've just been googling . . .
Me: Yeah?
Mom: And we could have DIED parasailing. I mean, it's VERY dangerous. I'll never do that again. There was a story on here about a man who was killed when his parachute went in the water. Listen to this . . .

And so I listened. With my eyes closed and a smile on my face, knowing that all was right with the world again . . .

Is that the brest you can do?

2011-02-03T00:00:00.002-06:00

I went to Kroger's tonight to get some groceries and saw this sign:

Methinks this was not written by a boob man . . .

Brrrrrrr!!!!

2011-02-02T00:00:00.001-06:00

It was COLD outside today!! Last night an arctic front came through Texas so the temperature dropped WAY down and just kept dropping all day long. But even though it was so cold and so windy, it was kinda fun . . . I mean, how often do you hear the words "Arctic" and "Texas" in the same sentence?? We have to take advantage of it when we can! And I know my relatives in Chicago will laugh at me for acting like 30 degrees is noteworthy but I don't care who you are - that's COLD!! And even a Chicagoan can't argue with that - I mean it was LITERALLY freezing . . . so by definition it was cold!

The front came in during the night or very early morning - I don't know because I was sleeping like a baby. BUT I did wake up to the sound of the winds blowing like crazy around 5 am so I know it was here by then for sure. I laid there in bed, snuggled under my blankets and happy to be in my warm house. As I drifted back to sleep (after all - I'm not one of those crazy people who wakes up at 5 am . . .), I knew I would eventually have to get out in it so I decided to make it my goal today to stay warm and stay out of the blustery winds that were whipping around out there. As much as possible, that is. But, as is so often the case, life had different plans . . .

First, I woke up to the sound of the garbage truck on the next street and suddenly realized that I hadn't put my trash can at the end of the driveway. So I ran downstairs to rectify the situation as quickly as I could, hoping to beat the truck to my driveway. But since I was in a hurry, I didn't dress properly for the task: I ran outside in my short-sleeve shirt, thin pants, and no shoes and put the trash out. It took me a full 10 minutes to defrost my feet when I got back inside . . .

Then, after I had thawed out, I got ready for work. I had gotten up a little earlier than usual and had gotten ready for work a little more quickly than usual so I was running a little early today, which is very UNusual for me. I hit the road to head to work feeling pretty good about my early start. I cranked up my heat and started to feel my hands defrost when BAM! I got rear-ended. Whiiiiiiiiiich meant that I had to go stand outside and exchange information with the other driver and then stand outside some more while we waited for the police officer to finish writing the accident report - we were outside for over 30 minutes. This was my reward for being early. It couldn't have happened last week in the 60 degree weather or in the Spring when the weather is lovely. Oh no - it had to happen on the morning that a freakin' ARCTIC BLAST was coming through town. I swear the temperature dropped at least 10 degrees while we were standing out there. By the time I got back in my car my face was numb . . . aaaaaaand an interesting color of maroon.

Then at lunchtime, after my co-workers and I had eaten, we decided to go to Starbucks for some coffee to help warm up our insides. The Starbucks by our office has a drive-thru so we didn't have to get out of our cars, luckily. But we DID have to roll down the driver's-side window so that we could place our order. We were kind of dreading it because the wind was so strong and we knew it would blow right in and make us cold in the car. But we figured that we'd just place our order quickly so as to minimize the amount of time that we were exposed to the elements. It was a good plan. So my friend Erin (not my sister - different Erin) rolled down her window and attempted to QUICKLY place our order. Unfortunately, the young girl who was taking the drive-thru orders was 1) apparently new, 2) a little valley-girlish AAAAAND 3) nice and warm inside and NOT in any hurry . . .

Girl: Welcome to Starbucks!! How may I help you?
Erin: Hi. [no time for pleasantries . . .] I'd like one grande green tea. And-
Girl: Okay - one grande green teeeeeeeeeeea?
Erin: Yes, and -
Girl: Do you want the lemooooooon . . . or the miiiiiiiiint . . . or do you just want the regulaaaaaaar?
Erin: Just the regular. And -
Girl: Just the regulaaaaaaar?
Erin: Yes. And -
Girl: Okaaaaaay. Would you like anything else todaaaaaay?
Erin: [pauses to take deep breath] Yes. I'd also like a grande skinny latte with no foam and with 1 Sweet & Low and cinnamon on top.
Girl: Okaaaaay. So that's one grandeeeee skinny latteeee with . . . with . . . ummmm . . . did you say no foooooooam?
Erin: Right. No foam. And with 1 Sweet & Low and cinnamon on top. And then I want -
Girl: Okaaaaaay. How many Sweet & Looooooow?
Erin: [gripping steering wheel] Just one.
Girl: One Sweet & Looooooow?
Erin: YES.
Girl: And some cinnamon sprinkled on toooooop?
Erin: Yes.
Girl: Okay - anything else?
Erin: Yes. I need another grande latte with one shot of espresso, 2 Splendas, and cinnamon on top.
Girl: Okay - so another grande latteeeeeeee?
Erin: With just one shot of espresso.
Girl: Okaaaaay. [pause] And so you just want one shot of espresso?
Erin: [eyes bugged out, looking at me as if to say "SHOOT ME NOW."] Yes. And with 2 Splendas.
Girl: Okaaaaay. How many Splendas?
Erin: TWO.
Girl: And 2 Splendaaaaaaas?
Erin: [shaking fist at the speaker] Yes. And cinnamon on top. And then -
Girl: So with cinnamon on top of that one, toooooo?
Erin: [eyes closed in silent prayer for patience] Yes. And then I need another grande latte just like that one.
Girl: Okaaaay - just like that one?
Erin: Yes. [DEAR GOD, YES.] And that's all.
Girl: Okaaaaaay . . . can I get you anything else today?
Erin: NO.

I think it took us a full 10 minutes to order our drinks. By the time Erin was able to roll up her window, we were all chattering and rubbing her hands together in a desperate attempt to regain feeling in them. But the coffee definitely helped and I was warmed back up, from the inside out.

Until my gas light came on while I was driving home and I had to stop and get gas. I thought to myself "No problem - I'll just start it, lock the nozzle so that it fills up without me, and get back in the warm car." But, alas, the nozzle lock didn't work and, after 10 failed attempts to lock it, I eventually gave up and stood there filling up my tank and freezing my rear off.

Just my luck.

So I've decided that tomorrow I will attempt to trick fate by vowing to spend as much time outside as I possibly can.

And I will also vow to never leave early for work again . . .

Awesom. Just awesom.

2011-01-31T00:00:00.002-06:00

My friend Vicki was in Nacogdoches this weekend and saw a local restaurant in desperate need of an editor . . .

Seriously?? How did no one catch this??

And, as Vicki said to me in her text, "No, the 'E' did not fall off . . ."

You know, if you don't have spellcheck available to you when you're picking a name for your new restaurant, you should spend the money to invest in a nice dictionary. Consider it part of your start-up costs - you won't regret it. BUT if you can't get a dictionary either before the big naming day arrives, I think a good rule of thumb would be to stick with easy, one-syllable words that you KNOW you can spell. For instance, in this case, they could have gone with "Good Burger" or "Great Burger" or even "Meat Burger" . . . and a senseless spelling error could have been avoided. But when you throw in extra syllables things can get a little hairy.

The moral of the story, then, is: Check your spelling before you name your business . . . it's an awesom responsibility.

Answer me this . . .

2011-01-26T00:00:00.001-06:00

I'm in trial this week so I won't be able to post again until Friday . . . but don't cry for me, Argentina . . .

In the meantime, you can do me a HUGE favor by helping me to answer two burning questions so that I can devote all my time and attention to my trial:

First, was I driving behind Sloth from the Goonies the other day?

And, second - did Princess Leia get reincarnated as a dress at Dillards?

Any thoughts?

See ya Friday!

A new twist on Charades.

2011-01-24T00:00:00.007-06:00

Charades.

It's a game we've all played before. Some of us are good at it. Some us - not so much. I've always felt like I'm a pretty good player, myself. I mean, I can act out words pretty well but where I REALLY shine is in the guessing part - that's always been my forte, if you don't mind me saying so. [smiles proudly]

Until I played with my 5-year-old niece, Avery.

She and Savannah came over to my house this weekend while my sister Erin ran to get her nails done. While Erin was gone, the girls and I decided to play charades. But, since there were only three of us playing, we didn't write down things to charade - we just let each person act out whatever they wanted to act out. I chose to act out things like popping popcorn, planting flowers, and tripping. Savannah acted out things like eating, tying her shoes, and fainting. Avery, on the other hand, chose very complicated and specific things to charade. I daresay even YOU would have a tough time guessing correctly.

For instance, there was THIS one . . .

In case you didn't catch that one, the answer was "playing on my phone, giving it to my kid so she can play on it, and going to the potty and she throws it in there and I had to get a new one."

Seriously?

We finally stopped because, frankly, she was crushing my charade self esteem and I couldn't take it.

And if she ever asks to play Pictionary, I'm saying NO . . .

Emma saves the tigers

2011-01-19T00:00:00.002-06:00

I told you yesterday that my niece Emma just celebrated her 10th birthday but what I DIDN'T tell you is that she specifically asked that no one bring her any presents. When I first heard that, I thought that maybe she was delirious or, perhaps, had become a communist. But then I learned the reason for the request and I thought it was just so sweet . . .

Tammy: Emma does not want presents this year for her birthday.
Me: What?? What's the matter with her?
Tammy: She's decided that she wants people to make donations to save the tigers.
Erin: What the HELL??
Tammy: Yeah - she wants to raise money to save some extinct tiger.
Me: Extinct?? Sounds like she's too late. Either that or that website is ripping her off.
Tammy: I mean "endangered!" There's some tiger that's endangered and she wants to raise $1000 to save it.
Erin: Well, ummmm . . . can I have her presents?

My mom, the animal lover and all-around encourager of altruistic endeavors, later discussed this whole concept with Emma:

Mom: Why are you wasting your birthday presents on a tiger? [see what I mean about the encouragement?] I mean, why not save a child?
Emma: Because I love tigers and I want to save them so that they won't be extinct, Dearsie.
Mom: Yeah, but who cares about TIGERS?
Emma: Dearsiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie . . .
Mom: Well, what about your birthday presents? Don't you think you'll miss them?
Emma: No. You know, Dearsie - I got everything I wanted for Christmas this year. So I don't need any more stuff. I'd rather help the tigers . . .

Isn't that so sweet? And so mature? When I was 10, giving up my birthday presents was the LAST thing on my mind. I was too busy playing with my friends and running my pick through my permed mullet to think about tigers, endangered or otherwise. So I think it's a pretty remarkable thing that she did and I was very proud of her.

But, for the record, I still think she's crazy for giving up her birthday presents. And I'm not altogether convinced she's out of the woods on the communism thing . . .

* * * * *

I would be remiss if I didn't give you Emma's website so that you could help save the tigers, too, if you so desire. You can just click on the link below to donate and, before you know it, you'll be a tiger lover like Emma!

Just don't tell my mom . . . :)

http://wwf.worldwildlife.org/site/TR/Events/PandaPages?pg=fund&fr_id=1040&pxfid=26602&pxfid2=26602

Nora Get Your Gun

2011-01-18T00:00:00.002-06:00

You know, I don't really ask for much from my weekend: some time to relax, dinner out with friends or family, maybe a movie . . . not too much, really. So why must my weekend be an overachiever and give me more excitement than I can handle?

My niece Emma had her 10th birthday party on Saturday and she wanted all party goers to come dressed in their favorite color. Party themes are a big deal in my family and we go all out, usually competing with each other for an unofficial "best costume" award - we're very competitive. So I spent pretty much all Saturday morning trying to figure out just what combination of pink and red I was going to wear. In the end, I decided on a pair of red pants, a pink shirt, a pink scarf, a red hat, and red and white slippers . . . don't judge me. ANYWAY, once I decided on what I was going to wear, I laid it out on my bed and jumped in the shower to get ready.

Fast forward 30 minutes . . .

After I finished drying my hair, I got my make-up out and was JUST about to start putting it on when I heard my dog barking like crazy downstairs. I hadn't heard anyone knocking but I knew by the way he was barking that someone was at my front door. I wasn't fully dressed so I just sneaked from my bedroom door to my balcony and looked down at the front door to see if I could tell who was at the door - I had thought that maybe it was my mom or Jill or one of my sisters. But all I could see from my vantage point was that the person was wearing blue pants and white tennis shoes and that I didn't recognize his or her hair.

Then, to my horror, the person tried to open the door.

I was frozen for a second and then I jumped into action. My first order of business: get dressed. I ran to my room and looked at my outfit that I had set out for my niece's party. I quickly thought to myself "I am NOT getting murdered in red pants and a pink scarf, thankyouverymuch." I had brief visions of the prosecutor in the subsequent murder trial displaying crime scene photos and trying to explain my peculiar fashion sense to the confused jury. So I quickly grabbed some jeans and a shirt. Then I grabbed my phone and went back to the balcony. I still couldn't see the person's face but I could tell that he or she was looking in through the window and still trying to open the front door. Then the person walked away.

I ran to a different window in my house that afforded a better view of my retreating would-be burglar and I saw that it was a SHE - an older woman who looked like she might either be crazy or drunk. I called the police and explained to them what happened. They came right out and, when they got there, the crazy lady was walking up someone else's driveway to try it again. The deputy talked to her for a minute and then put her in the back of her car. My neighbors and I were standing outside, waiting for word from the deputy but all she did was put her finger up to her temple to indicate that the lady wasn't quite all there. Poor thing.

Of course I had to tell everyone at Emma's party about what had happened. And because we are all good Texans, this led to a discussion of the benefits of having a gun in your house for protection against intruders [pause for some of my friends and family members to groan . . .]. But, trust me, whether you are for or against guns, you would enjoy having a conversation about guns with my mom like the one we had on Saturday:

Mom: I think I need a shotgun.
Tammy: Uh - no you don't.
Erin: Mom - that would hurt your shoulder. I mean, you can't even handle it if one of the kids hits your arm. How are you going to handle the recoil of a shotgun?
Mom: I wouldn't hold it against my shoulder - I'd just hold it out. Like this. [holding and imaginary shotgun WAY out from her body]
Erin: Oh yeah - that would be real intimidating to a burglar. He'd take one look at you and go back to stealing your stuff.
Mom: Shut up. [turning to me] And we could go to some sort of range and shoot . . . ummmmm . . . what's the word I'm looking for . . . ummmmmm . . . we could shoot . . . I know it's not "skanks."
Me: Oh, geez - I hope not.
Tammy: Yeah. You could just drive down Westheimer yelling "PULL!"?
Me and Erin and Tammy: [cracking up]
Me: I really don't think that shooting skanks is legal . . .
Mom: What's the word I'm thinking of?
Me: Skeet?
Mom: Yeah . . . that. We could shoot that.

Is it a coincidence that NRA almost spells NORA?

I think not . . .

When you can't ignore the signs . . .

2011-01-14T00:00:00.000-06:00

The week of Christmas was an unbelievably busy week for me - I had a trial, had to finish my Christmas shopping, had to shop and pack for the cruise, and had to get all my presents wrapped. I really felt like I was operating on adrenaline alone and I was WORN OUT. So when we got on the cruise ship on Christmas Day, I was so excited that all the running around and taking care of business was officially behind me and that I was finally going to have a chance to relax. I wasn't going to be able to make or receive phone calls and I wasn't going to have access to the internet so I had no responsibilities, no work to do - nothing. I was going to have NO choice but to just enjoy my vacation. In theory, it was the perfect escape - all I had to do was breathe in the ocean air and relax.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand then I saw this sign:

You know, I'm not sure if they knew what "incovenience" they were apologizing to me for at that point. I mean, here I was ready to relax and throw away my cares for the next five days and then BAM! my inner editor gets called to duty. For a moment, I thought about going up to the top deck and just giving myself up to the strong winds. But I soon realized that was an irrational response to a minor spelling error. I just needed to take a deep breath and give the cruise people a break. I mean, surely, that was just anomaly - an unfortunate oversight that I could forgive. I'm sure there would be no others . . .

Then I saw a pretty cool gingerbread replica of the terminal in Galveston that had been built and was on display on the main deck:

And then I made the mistake of looking a little closer:

I cussed silently and shook my fists to the sky. But then I reminded myself that most of the crew members on our ship are from different countries so maybe the problem is that the people who are having to write these signs are not writing in their native languages. That's when I decided to cut them a little slack. I mean, it's not like these signs are coming from Carnival's corporate office or anything. Because I'm sure THOSE would be correctly spelled.

So you can understand my disappointment when we got off the boat in Mexico and I saw:

Curse you, Carnival Cruises Lines. Curse you.

But how could I be upset for long? I mean, I was finally in Mexico! It was time for me to speak some Spanish and find a Mexican man to bring home in my backpack to make Gustavo jealous so that he would finally break down and declare is love for me. You know - the normal stuff you do in Mexico. So I told my little inner editor to give it a rest and go to sleep for a while. I assured her that we were in Mexico and that most of the signs would be in Spanish anyway so she didn't have to worry about any gross abuse of the English language. Once I had convinced her sufficiently, I boarded our bus to Progreso, Mexico. I looked around, excited for our first adventure.

Aaaaaaaaaand then I saw this:

Why, God? Why?

I just closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing for a few minutes and then I was over it. I told myself that no one asked me to be the designated proof-reader so stop it. And somehow that worked. I let it go and enjoyed seeing and exploring the market in Progreso, some Mayan ruins, and Merida, the capital city of the Yucatan. And then the next day, I hung out on the beach in Cozumel, shopped the little shops, and never once thought about any signs posted around me. It was so liberating. And I was so sad when we had to wrap up our time in Cozumel and head back to the ship. Luckily, there was a HUGE line that we had to wait in to get back onto the pier so it helped up postpone our departure from this wonderful world of Gustavos. I stood in the line, creeping along an inch at a time toward the pier, listening to the little band that was playing Cielito Lindo for us as we all headed back toward the ship. They really had a great sound and I kept thinking how it was the perfect way to end our time in Mexico. And as we moved forward in the line, we got closer and closer to the little band until we were right next to them.

And their sign:

Son of a . . .

Cruisin' with Nora

2011-01-12T00:09:00.004-06:00

For Christmas this year, my mom gave us all a trip - a family cruise to Mexico that set sail on Christmas Day. My sisters and brothers-in-law and I have known about it since this summer but we kept it a surprise for the kids, who found out about it on Christmas Eve and screamed for about 5 minutes when my mom told them. Even as young as they are, they know what I know - a cruise would be fun . . . but a cruise with OUR family would be a BLAST.

I've told you before about how my mom can turn any conversation into a conversation about death or diabetes. And she can inform you of any tragic death that has occurred within a 50 mile radius of any given point. It's like her spiritual gift. And she loves to inform me and my sisters about the various ways that something bad might happen to us. For instance, I could be talking to her on the phone at, say, 10:30 at night and she'll say "What's that noise? Are you taking your trash out right now? You shouldn't do that so late! You don't know WHO is out at this time of night. Someone could grab you and drag you into the trees and we'd never see you again." This is her unique way of parenting . . .

ANYWAY . . . given my mom's predilection for morbid topics of conversation, I was surprised that she chose to go on a cruise to Mexico, of all places, given current unrest down there. I mean, I just MENTIONED traveling to Mexico last summer with some of my friends and she lost no time in launching Operation: Save Catherine's Life, forwarding me online articles of every bloody death that had occurred in Mexico in the last 5 years. This is how her brain works. But, strangely, she never even mentioned any concern about traveling to Mexico before we left for the cruise. I didn't really get it. And then something strange happened: since SHE wasn't informing us about all the possible manners of death that awaited us on our vacation, I found mySELF obsessing about it

First, there was the danger that we'd be boarded by Somalian pirates. Yeah, yeah, yeah - I know our ship was never going to leave the Gulf but that means nothing to me. And I daresay it means even less to the Somalian pirates. I worried that these pirates, being the entrepreneurial types, might decide to expand their territory one day and I did NOT want to be on cruise ship that marked the beginning of their expansion.

Second, I was concerned that I might fall overboard and be eaten alive by sharks. I even went so far as to google what types of sharks are commonly found in the Gulf. I was glad to see that no Great Whites are in the Gulf, though I wasn't sure what kind of comfort that might bring me as I was being eaten alive by Bull Sharks. But it set my mind at ease for a while. And it made me realize that perhaps I've watched too many seasons of Shark Week.

Finally, I was most worried about our time in Mexico. I mean, there's no worse way to end your family cruise than to have one of your family members kidnapped for ransom by drug cartels, you know? It would really put a damper on things. And no one wants that . . .

But, thankfully, once we got on the ship, my mom's true colors came out. And that meant that the natural order of things had been restored and I could stop obsessing about getting kidnapped by cartels and such. In fact, one afternoon she and I were standing on the balcony of our room, looking at the water. I was admiring the color of the water way out there in the Gulf - it's this deep sapphire blue and it's beautiful. I just stood there, soaking in the view. My mom was standing next to me and I thought that she was admiring it, as well - it was a cool moment. Aaaaaaaaaaaaand that's when she spoke up:

Mom: You know - when you look at the water from this perspective [pause, making me think she's going to say something profound], it's just . . . death.
Me: Wait - what??
Mom: It's just DEATH.
Me: [stunned silence]
Mom: I mean, you think if you fell over you'd be able to swim. But you couldn't. If you fell in there, you'd just be dead.
Me: Wow . . .
Mom: It's just DEATH.

Then, later, we decided to take our books up to the Veranda deck to enjoy the beautiful weather and get a little reading done. We found a couple of lounge chairs that were right next to the railing so that, as we read, we were looking out onto the ocean. We read for a while and then I stopped to watch the sunset. I, again, found myself just admiring the view - really taking it in and enjoying it. The fresh air, the sun setting, the blue blue water - it was all just so beautiful. That's when my mom piped up:

Mom: You know, looking out at the water like this . . .
Me: Mm hm?
Mom: I just can't help but think about all the sailors who died at sea during World War II.
Me: WHAT?
Mom: Yeah - it's so sad.
Me: How can you look out at that view and think it's sad?
Mom: Because! All those poor sailors . . .
Me: Oh . . . my . . . GOSH.

I'm not sure if she even saw that the sun was setting. Because if she had, I'm sure she would have mentioned something about the number of people who have drowned at sunset.

Ahhhhhh . . . I DO love cruising with Nora!

Artists . . . God love 'em.

2011-01-11T01:01:00.003-06:00

A friend of mine sent me an email tonight and attached to it was a picture of an ad he had seen on Pandora:

I think someone might need some more instuction in spelling, don't you think?

And you know, I know that they're artists and all and maybe spelling isn't their forte (CLEARLY), but there really should be a law against anyone opening a school of any type if they can't, in fact, SPELL THE FREAKIN' WORD.

That is SO not coool.

Nora on football injuries.

2011-01-07T00:00:00.001-06:00

On Saturday, I celebrated New Year's with my family. We started a new tradition a couple of years ago that I really love: instead of making a big New Year's dinner (since it's just a week after our big Christmas dinner) we get together for a New Year's brunch. We all meet at my house, wear our pajamas, and just hang out all day playing games or relaxing - it's just a great day to lounge around in your jammies and hang out and I love it. You'd love it, too - you should TOTALLY hang out with us next year!

This year, my brother-in-law Matt turned on the Rose Bowl and had that playing on the television on mute while we were sitting around chatting after brunch. Eventually, he and my other brother-in-law, Brian, left to go watch football at home but they left the bowl game still playing on mute on my TV. After they left, my mom, sisters, two of my nieces, and I set up a card table in my living room to play some games. None of us has bothered turning off the TV so the game was still on and, as we were playing, my mom looked up and saw a player get injured. That's when we had this exchange:

Mom: Oh man - he looks pretty hurt.
Tammy: Oh yeah, he does - he's not moving at all.
[watching until player stands up and hops to sidelines]
Mom: Looks like he hurt his Achilles Hip.
Me: Awesome . . .
Erin: Man - Achilles Hip, huh? Yikes. That's a season-ender for sure.
Mom: Yeah.
Erin: Possibly even a career-ender.
Mom: Mmmmm . . . very sad.
[watching replay]
Mom: [shaking her head] Yep - that's definitely what it was . . .

That's when I decided that football games would probably be a LOT more interesting if you left them on mute and let my mom do the commentary.

Aaaaaaaaaaaand now I know what my Super Bowl plans will be . . .

Watch where you click . . .

2011-01-06T00:00:00.003-06:00

My best friend was surfing the internet the other day and found this interesting instruction on a website that she ran across:

I don't know what's more inappropriate, instructing people to click a tittle or instructing them to click and tell. And I can't, of course, speak for all tittles but I feel like I need to make sure everyone knows that, in general, if you click a tittle you're NOT going to get a home decor tutorial . . .

Unorthodox advice . . .

2011-01-04T00:00:00.001-06:00

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope that 2011 has been good to you so far! MY 2011 has started off with an awesome case of Bronchitis, complete with a super-attractive phlegm-y cough . . . don't be jealous. I was on a cruise last week and have been DYING to tell you all about it but, alas, I must wait yet one more day - hopefully by then I will be feeling better and a little more up to writing. BUT, in the meantime, I thought I'd tell you a quick funny little story from Christmas Eve with my family.

We all met over at my mom's on Christmas Eve to open our presents and celebrate my mom's birthday. Shortly after arriving at the house, my 9 year-old niece got the hiccups and they would NOT go away. Nothing too exciting about that, right? Well, normally I'd agree with you. But, as usual, a normal topic in the hands of my sisters' kids becomes hilarious . . .

Avery (5 years old): Do you STILL have the hiccups?
Emma: Yes. And I'm SO irritated because they will NOT go away. I tried drinking water and that didn't help. I tried holding my breath and that didn't help. Ugh!
Avery: You should go poop.
Emma: What?
Avery: [matter of factly] Go poop.
Emma: [Blank stare]
Avery: [shrugs] That's what I always do when I have the hiccups.

Well, I guess we have to give her kudos for thinking outside the box . . .

Literally . . .

2010-12-31T00:00:00.000-06:00

Have you ever seen The Rachel Zoe Project on Bravo? It's a show that follows a celebrity stylist who, among other things, LOVES to use the word "literally" - and you know how I feel about that word, friends. Well, some awesome person out there put together this video montage and I think it is quite possibly the best video montage EVER created . . .

Watch a Montage of Rachel Zoe Abusing the Word ‘Literally’ -- Vulture
- Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

A little piece of my soul just died.

Literally.

Two Nora-isms for you . . .

2010-12-27T00:00:00.001-06:00

My mom has had some good Nora-isms lately so I thought I'd go ahead and update you all so that you can add them to your list of Nora translations in case you ever run into her and find yourself having to translate something that she's saying to you. One of these days I really am going to make a Pocket Nora Thesaurus for you to carry with you for just that type of occasion . . .

On Christmas Eve, my brother-in-law Matt was telling my mom about how much fun he had at JazzFest this past May. Luckily, we were all sitting around listening to the conversation . . . so we got treated to this little exchange:

Matt: It was so much fun. I got to hang out with two of my high school buddies AND I got to see my favorite band of all time.

Tammy: Who's your favorite band?

Mom: DON'T TELL ME! I know it. I'm working on it . . .

Matt: This should be good.

Mom: Raisins are coming to mind.

Matt: Awesome.

Tammy: What letter does it start with?

Matt: "P."

Mom: Poluca!

Matt: Ummmm . . .

Mom: PEARL JAM!!

Erin: Oooooooooor Poluca Raisin . . .

And then the other day, she was talking about going to Freebird's (a local restaurant) to buy a gift certificate for someone. "Freebird's" . . . not too difficult to remember, right? Well, it is for my mom:

Mom: [to Erin] I need to run over to Red Baron's to get a gift certificate.

Catherine: [to Erin] Let me help you out with that one . . . that's "Freebird's."

Erin: Wow. [pause to process that one] Wow.

Mom: Whatever.

[then 10 minutes later . . .]

Mom: Okay - let's run over to . . . to . . . Deer Something.

Me and Erin: [blank looks]

Mom: Or Something Deer . . .?

Me: Freebird's?

Mom: Yeah - let's go. [pause] Stop laughing . . .

You know, it's a miracle we're even able to communicate with her at all . . .

Nora: The Owner's Manual (Holiday Addendum)

2010-12-24T00:00:00.001-06:00

Yay!!!!! It's Christmas Eve!! This is my favorite day of the year, by far. Why? Because I get to open all my presents tonight, silly! Oh - and because I get to hang out with my family and treasure the time that I get to spend with them blah blah blah . . .

But Christmas Eve is not only special because I get to open presents. No - there's another reason that it's so special: IT'S MY MOM'S BIRTHDAY!!! So, in honor of her and her special day, I thought I would update my owner's manual with special holiday tips and advice that you can use if you happen to rent my mom for one of your holiday parties. I hope that some of this helps you to get to most out of your Nora experience during the holiday season . . .

Christmas Dinner . . .
If you invite my mom over to your Christmas dinner, there are a couple of things you should know. First of all, she doesn't believe in eating your Christmas dinner in shorts and flip flops. If you come downstairs wearing such attire, she will handle it directly and not at all passive aggressively by putting her hand over her heart, knitting her eyebrows, and asking you "Is THAT what you're wearing to the TABLE?" So just save yourself the trouble and make sure you show up to the table wearing something a little more presentable - jeans and a nice shirt will be just fine . . .

If you ask her to contribute something to your meal (there will be an extra charge for that, of course . . .), you should also know that she is never happy with whatever she has cooked. We have turkey and dressing every Thanksgiving and Christmas and it's the best stuff you'll EVER eat. Yeah, yeah, yeah - I'm sure yours is great, too. But my mom's is the BEST. It's actually a recipe that my dad's mom used to make but I've only ever had my mom's version so it's hers in my book. Anyway, every year my mom spends about 10 minutes of our Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner critiquing her turkey and dressing. One year she was convinced that the celery was too crunchy - we didn't agree but she wouldn't listen to us. So the next year, she decided to steam the celery before she put it in the dressing so that it wouldn't be so crunchy. She was so proud of herself for thinking of that idea and she kept talking about how she hoped it helped. That's when my sisters and I decided to play a trick on her: we each got a piece of raw celery in our hands just before we sat down for dinner and we planned to all crunch down on our raw celery at the same time so it would make a big crunch sound. Then we were going to all look at my mom and say that the celery seemed a little crunchy still. It was hilarious . . . in our heads.

So we sat down at the table and got ready for what would surely be the most hilarious holiday prank EVER. We each got our serving of turkey and dressing, discreetly popped our raw celery in our mouths, and crunched down at the same time. My mom heard the big "CRUNCH" and snapped her head up and looked at us with an "Oh no!" face. We were all staring back at her with big eyes and hands over our mouths and were JUST about to really sell it with little comments like "I don't think the steaming worked" or "No, I don't think the celery is too crunchy at all, Mom." But we never got to do that because my mom burst into tears. ACTUAL tears. Who knew celery was such an emotionally-charged vegetable?

We all felt HORRIBLE and tripped all over ourselves trying to show her our raw celery so that she'd see it was just a joke - a terrible, terrible joke. She finally re-gained her composure . . . but she did NOT tell us how hilarious we were. So the moral of this story is: if you invite my mom over for dinner, be prepared for her to offer an exhaustive critique of everything she didn't do right with her recipe and remember that celery is no laughing matter . . .

Christmas Eve . . .
We open our Christmas presents on Christmas Eve in my family so, if you happen to stop by for a visit after about 6ish on Christmas Eve, you'll find us knee deep in gift wrap. Of course, you'd be welcome to stay and hang out with us - in fact, we'd insist on it. Unfortunately, there wouldn't be any gifts under the tree for you . . . uuuuuuuuunless you had mentioned to my mom that you might stop by. In that case, my mom will have at least 4 or 5 gifts for you to open. They might be something as random as a funny little stocking-stuffer that she saw or a Sam's-size box of your favorite candy bars. So do me a favor and tell her you're going to stop by, even if you're not. And tell her that you really love Swiss Cake Rolls . . .

Cheese popcorn . . .
In the event you decide to invite my mom to one of your holiday parties, you should know that she gets cheese popcorn for Christmas every year . . . and she eats the heck out of it. "Why does this affect my Christmas party, Catherine?" you ask. Well, I'll tell you: for about 2 weeks after Christmas, her fingers and fingernails are stained orange from the the "cheese" on the popcorn. And it doesnt' come off - I'm pretty sure even bleach would have to admit defeat. It's SUPER classy. So if you wanted to, say, introduce her to your boss at your party, you might want to rent a sand blaster or buy her a pair of gloves for the evening. Or you may want to have an explanation prepared, like "This is Nora. She was recently diagnosed with jaundice in the fingers on her right hand - it's a very rare condition." Something like that. Or you can just wait and invite her to your Valentine's party - they should be a normal flesh-color again by that time . . .

Christmas Presents . . .
If you and my mom decide you are going to exchange gifts, you should know that she is a very generous gift-giver. Every Christmas, past and present, the presents are piled so high that they violate a handful of OSHA regulations. It's so awesome. She always says she's going to cut back but she never does . . . and that's even MORE awesome. When we were kids, it seemed like EVERY year she'd strike fear in our hearts by saying something like "This Christmas is going to be different - it's going to be a smaller Christmas. We don't need so many presents - it's ridiculous." But every year, despite her threats, the pile of presents was bigger than the last year. Try as she may to stick to her guns, she just couldn't help herself - she and my dad loved spoiling their girls too much. And we did NOT have a problem with that.

But, on the other hand, if you and my mom decide that you will NOT exchange Christmas presents, you should know that my mom will, in fact, NOT buy you a present. So if you find yourself thinking "I better get something for Nora because she will probably go ahead and get something for me, that silly girl," you should know that you are quite wrong. There were MANY years that my mom and dad said that they were not going to get each other presents so that they could make our Christmas bigger or buy something for the house - something like that. And every year, my mom stuck to the deal and my dad didn't. So my mom would open presents from my dad, laughing and saying "Oh my gosh!! Charlie! We said we weren't going to get each other anything!!" She always acted so surprised that he didn't stick to the agreement, which never made much sense to me. And he didn't just buy her a few little things, either. I remember one year he made her close her eyes and wheeled in a treadmill - a freakin' TREADMILL - and, when she opened her eyes, she laughed and exclaimed "CHARLIE!! We said we weren't getting each other anything this year!" We kids always saw through it - it was the quite the racket she had going. So just be aware of that. I'd hate for you to sit there awkwardly awaiting a return gift, only to be disappointed. You're welcome.

Christmas decorating . . .
Everyone needs help with putting up their Christmas decorations, right? Well, I am now offering a special "Christmas decorating" rental rate so that you can rent my mom to help you get everything up and lit. But you should know that she is pretty particular about a few things, especially the lights on the Christmas tree. When we were kids, she used to have us put the lights on the tree while she stood back saying things like "No, it needs to glow from the inside out" or "It's not glowing from the inside, Catherine." I used to want to start throwing ornaments at her face but I restrained myself because she's my mom and that sort of thing is apparently frowned upon. But it was so annoying! I vowed that when I had my own Christmas tree, I was NOT going to be so high-maintenance about the stinkin' lights - I mean, who really cares about that? Aaaaaaaaaaaand now I find myself standing back telling my roommates "It's not glowing from the inside - we need more lights over there." But they're not my kids so I really do have to dodge the ornaments that they throw at my face . . .

Christmas wrapping . . .
You should also know that my mom doesn't look kindly on bad wrapping jobs. If you don't know how to wrap but you did your best, she will love it. But if, like me, you make the mistake of showing up one year with a few presents sans bows, she will look at them and ask you non-passive-aggressive questions like "Did you run out of bows?" or "Oh - do you need to borrow some bows?" But if you look at her presents, you'll understand her condescension - she always decorates each present with a pretty bow that she made herself or some other little special decoration that she comes up with. She's really creative with that kind of stuff and likes to make Christmas special in that way. I like to make Christmas special with peel-and-stick bows and I think that it kills a part of her soul each year when I do that. I mean, she'll accept my little pre-made, stick-on bows but she definitely looks down on them. I think she'd be happier if I showed up with a tattoo on my forehead than if I show up with my peel-and-sticks. But if you find yourself in this situation with my mom and you see her staring judgmentally at your store-bought bows disapprovingly, just do what I do and stare judgmentally back at her orange popcorn fingers. And then you'll be even . . .

Well, I hope this helps you to know how to best utilize your Nora rental period this holiday season. Make your reservations soon - we're booking up fast!

I hope you all have a VERY merry Christmas!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand . . .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM!!!

Aunt of the Year.

2010-12-23T00:38:00.006-06:00

The other day, Erin decided to run out to the grocery store with the girls so they jumped in the car and headed to Kroger's. When Savannah realized where they were going, she had this conversation with Erin . . .

Savannah: [excitedly] Are we going to see the civilition sunny??
Erin: The what?
Savannah: The civilition sunny.
Erin: What is that?
Savannah: You know - [slowly, to help Erin understand] the civilition sunny.
Erin: I'm not sure what that is, baby. Can you point it out to me when you see it?
Savannah: [disappointed] Okay . . .
[Later, walking into Wal-Mart, they approach a man ringing a bell for the Salvation Army]
Savannah: MOMMY! There it is!! The Civilition Sunny!!
Erin: Oooooooooh!!! THAT'S what you were saying! Now I get it! That's the Salvation Army, baby.
Savannah: Oh. The Salvation Army?
Erin: Yeah.
Savannah: Oh geez - don't tell Catchy I said that . . .

Apparently, Erin heard that a lot that night - every time Savannah and Avery would mispronounce something or say something unintentionally funny, they would follow it up with "Don't tell Catchy." At one point, Savannah even said "Pretty much mine and Avery's favorite word these days is 'Don't tell Catchy.'"

And that's not the first time this has happened. One time Tammy was trying to tell me about something that Ben had done. He did NOT want her to tell me but he finally gave in and said that she could. But, before she said anything, he came over to me and put a hand on either side of my face, looked me square in the eye and said "But, Catchy - promise me you won't blog about it."

Good Lord . . . what kind of horrible aunt am I??? I'm pretty much scarring them for life.

And yet, here I am blogging about them again.

You know, I think it's time I admit that I may have a problem . . .

Fa la law la law la law law law!

2010-12-22T00:06:00.005-06:00

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 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 . . .

Defining the relationship . . .

2010-12-20T00:00:00.000-06:00

I'm in trial this week so won't be posting until Wednesday . . . stop crying, Punkin'. You'll be okay without me until then . . .

BUT, since we're here together right now, let's have a DTR talk.

Ummmmmm . . . [gulp] . . . this is awkward. [deep breath] Okay - I'll just say it . . . I think it's high-time you became a follower of my blog. Don't you? I mean, we've been through so much together and I've shared all my deepest, darkest secrets with you, ya know? When you tell someone that you have a fear of automatic staplers or that you have a crush on your yard guy or that it's quite possible that you love fajitas more than you love your family, you sort of expect the relationship to go to the next level.

[awkward silence]

Right? [wringing hands]

[gulp]

I mean, you can just click on the follower section to the right or you can . . . or you can become a fan on facebook . . . it's really pretty easy, I promise! [nervous giggling]

[awkward silence]

Say something.

[crickets]

SAY SOMETHING!!!!

Okay, well . . . I guess I'll see you on Wednesday.

It's not gonna be weird between us now, is it?

Friday Night Flaws

2010-12-17T00:00:00.000-06:00

My best friend was watching television the other night and saw something that she knew would make my skin crawl. So, being a concerned friend and wanting to protect me from things that physically hurt me and kill my soul, she paused her TV, took a picture, and texted it to me . . .

And then, to further show how much she loves and cares for me, she zoomed in so that I would be sure to see it . . .

Rent-A-Center should hire a proof-reader next time, don't you think? And they should give that "i" a penalty for being offsides . . .

Get it??

Cuz it's a football show . . . ??

I'm hilarious.

Deep thoughts . . .

2010-12-14T00:00:00.002-06:00

Sometimes I'm glad that no one can see or hear my innermost thoughts - not because they're inappropriate or anything, but because they are so inane. I've somehow managed to fool people into thinking that I am halfway intelligent but the reality is that I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the most ridiculous topics that intelligent people don't spend time thinking about. Do I while away the hours brainstorming ways to fix the economy? No. Do I spend my drive to work pondering the great literary works of all time? Absolutely not. I wish I were that type of person - I really do.

But I'm not.

Don't believe me? Well, let me share with you some of my deepest thoughts from this week . . .

Every morning this week, I have stared in the mirror trying to figure out if I'm going to have a good eyelash day. Yes - I said eyelash. The lashes on my right eye have been doing this weird separation thing and I can't figure out why. It is causing me much more distress than is reasonable or acceptable for a mature adult. You may think it strange to spend so much time on a topic like this - not in my world, friend. There have been lots of times when I have called my best friend on the way into work and we have talked for 30 minutes about what kind of eyelash day we're each having - this is why she's my best friend . . .

I've also spent some time thinking this week about what toy I'd want to be in charge of making if I were an elf in Santa's Workshop. And when I say "some time" I mean "way more time than a 35 year old woman should spend thinking about such things." I go back and forth between the Sit and Spin or the Easy Bake Oven. I mean, on one hand, who WOULDN'T want to put their name on a fabulous product like the Sit and Spin, right? But, on the other hand, how cool would it be to build a contraption that can cook a 4 inch cake with a freakin' lightbulb?? So I go back and forth between those two and JUST when I think I'm about to make up mind, I think about how cool it would be to build a Lite Brite. And then I'm back to square one . . . [sigh].

And speaking of Santa - I've spent a lot of time lately looking at my fireplace, thinking about how little it is. Which, of course, leads me to spend way too much time thinking about how there's no way Santa could ever get in my house that way. And that, in turn, leads me to think a great deal about how fireplaces must have been bigger in the old days when Santa first started coming around. Judge if you must, but these are important issues that must be pondered, people.

And on the topic of important issues . . . On my way home from work today, I spent about 30 minutes wondering why the Reese's Peanut Butter Christmas Trees (or the Reese's Eggs at Easter) taste so much better than the regular Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I mean, the ingredients are the same . . . but the results are so DIFFERENT. Seriously - if you let yourself, you can waste a LOT of time thinking about it, too.

When I got home, I had to give my dog some antihistamines because he keeps scratching a lot. Every time I give him one of his pills, I have to use peanut butter so that he'll swallow the pills without knowing that they were even there. That gets me thinking that next time I have take any sort of pill I'm going to try it with peanut butter. I might like it. He seems to . . .

This evening, I spent about 10 minutes wondering if Shaun T would ban me from doing his Hip Hop Abs video if he knew that I make up little raps to sing to my dog while doing his workout. If you've ever heard me rap, you'd wonder that, too. Then, about 15 minutes into my workout - as I was considering the very real possibility of dying while doing the Booty Pop - I spent about 20 minutes wondering if my family would honor me by making up a less embarrassing story about my death. I do not want to be known as the girl who died doing the Booty Pop.

Another super-deep thought of mine tonight happened when I stopped by Target to pick up some wrapping paper and Christmas candy. While I was walking around, I looked up at the wall and saw an advertisement with a picture of a guy doing push-ups. And I ACTUALLY looked for a wedding ring on the guy . . .

Which reminds me - the other day I felt a sinus headache coming on and it reminded me that I needed to do my sinus rinse. I don't know if you're familiar with this process but it's not pretty. I have a bottle that I have to fill up with water and then dissolve a salt solution in. Once that is ready to go, I have to squirt the bottle up one nostril until it drains out of the other nostril. Then I switch nostrils and repeat. It's similar to a Neti Pot in that they are both designed to irrigate the sinuses and reduce sinus problems . . . and they are both SUPER unattractive. As I was doing my sinus rinse, I spent several minutes thinking about how irresistible I would be to the men of the world if they could only see me in that moment - a bottle up one nostril and a stream of salty solution flowing from the other. Combine that with my bed head? Wow. It's unfair for one person to possess THAT much sex appeal . . .

So there you have it - a look into my soul. No doubt my Mensa invitation is in the mail, right? Oh well - if Mensa doesn't want me, I say it's their loss. I would be a great asset to their group.

ESPECIALLY when I'm having a good eyelash day . . .

A SOMETHING scene . . .

2010-12-13T00:00:00.000-06:00

Savannah and Avery spent the night with me on Friday night because Erin and Matt had a Christmas party to attend. I decided that it would be fun to drive around looking at Christmas lights with the girls so we jumped in the car and started driving around in search of brightly-lit streets. We found a neighborhood with lots of streets and lots of decorated houses so we rolled the windows down and started admiring all the fun decorations. As we were driving, I saw few nativity scenes so, since we're all word people in my family and love learning new words, I thought I'd teach the girls that phrase . . .

Me: Oh look! It's a nativity scene! Do y'all know what a nativity scene is?
Savannah: No . . .
Me: Whenever you see a little scene with Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus and the manger, that's a nativity scene.
Savannah: Oh - that's what it's called?
Me: Yep! And sometimes there are animals in the nativity scene . . . or the three wise men . . . or shepherds . . . lots of different things. Let's see if we can spot all the nativity scenes out here.
Savannah: Okay . . .
[turning down the next street]
Me: What kind of decoration is your favorite to see in someone's front yard?
Avery: Ummmm . . . I don't know.
Savannah: I like the Santas.
Me: Me, too! And I like the -
Savannah: [spotting a nativity scene and pointing to it] CATCHY! A CRIME SCENE!!!!
Me: Good! You found one! But it's called a NATIVITY scene - not a crime scene. [butt clenched, saying a little prayer for her soul and hoping the Lord didn't strike my car with lightning . . .]
Savannah: Oh.
Avery: Yeah - it's not a CRIME scene, Savannah.
Me: But good eye on that one! You found it!
[turning down next street]
Savannah: [pointing] CATCHY! AN IMPROVETY SCENE!!
Me: Good!! A NATIVITY scene - good eye again, Savannah!
Savannah: [practicing under her breath] Improvety scene . . .
Me: Oh look - there's a little sleigh with a-
Savannah: [pointing] LOOK! AN IMPROVETY SCENE!!!
Avery: Savannah! It's NOT an improvety scene! It's a . . . a . . .
Me: A Nativity-
Avery: [then jumping in on the easy part] Scene.
[turning down next street]
Me: Ooooo - there are LOTS of lights down here. Oh look! There's Santa on a helicopter. That's silly! Santa doesn't drive a -
Savannah: [pointing] A CRIME SCENE!!!
Avery: SAVANNAH! It's not a CRIME scene!! It's a NEDUCATION scene!!
Me: [laughing too hard to correct either of them]
Savannah: [pointing] LOOK! AN INTENEVY SCENE!!
Avery: Savannah, you are making me so mad . . .

It was so hilarious. Poor Savannah was really trying but she just couldn't get it - and that was surprisingly frustrating to Avery. But I am happy to report that, the next morning - after Erin had picked them up - I got a phone call from Savannah telling me: "There are two NATIVITY scenes on my street!!!!" She was so excited and proud of herself that she finally got it right.

And I was excited that she'd stopped calling it a freaking crime scene . . .

Christmas Gift Ideas!!

2010-12-09T00:00:00.001-06:00

I had to fly to Brownsville today for a hearing and my goal for the day was simple: do not get my throat slit by any drug cartels. I'm happy to report that I accomplished that goal and am safely seated in my living room, where my biggest danger is the rockin' gas that my dog has tonight.

On the flight home this afternoon - once I was sure no one would try to abduct me or force me to be a drug mule for them - I decided to look through the SkyMall magazine for some Christmas gift ideas. I didn't really find anything that would work for anyone on my list but, in the interest of helping you get YOUR shopping done, I thought I'd tell you about some of the more interesting items that I found.

Like . . .

The "Snore Terminator" . . . which is a gift that will no doubt result in an awkward conversation that begins with "Wait - do I snore???" The Snore Terminator is a little bracelet that you wear on your wrist at night. The bracelet has a tiny microphone which "detects snoring and sends safe electronic impulses (2 intensity levels) that cause you to change position without disrupting your sleep." Sounds like NOTHING could go wrong with that one . . .

The "Spy Text Reader" . . . This sweet little device lets you recover deleted text messages from a person's cell phone. The advertisement contained a picture of a cell phone with the message "Hurry up - she just left. Come over! :)" So this is the PERFECT gift for that happy couple on your list!

The "Relaxing Magic Showerhead" . . . This item promises to create a spa-like environment in your very own shower through the magic of LED technology. Apparently the showerhead lights up in brilliant colors like so:
And the best part of this showerhead is that the lights change colors every few seconds. So this gift is PERFECT for the person on your list who is so accustomed to being overstimulated that he needs a professional light show during his shower. You might want to consider Ritalin as a stocking stuffer for him, as well.

The "Wish Wrap" . . . This is a great option for that perpetually chilly person on your list:
Apparently, it is "just what you wished for - a cozy wrap you can wear around the house or around town." But please don't ACTUALLY wear it around town. Please . . .

The "SkyRest Pillow" . . . If you have someone on your list who travels a lot, you can give him or her this inconspicuous travel pillow:
I'm surprised I've never sat next to this guy on the plane . . .

"Peeing Boy Fountain" . . . Like its charming name suggests, this is a fountain designed around a statue of a boy peeing. Like so . . .
SUPER classy, right? Apparently it's a replica of a famous Tuscan fountain . . . those crazy Tuscans! [nervous laugh] But you know what? This isn't Tuscany, fool. Don't buy this fountain . . .

"Basho the Sumo Wrestler Table" . . . This is, by far, my favorite item that I found today. It's a table unlike any you've ever seen before:
I think this would be a lovely conversation piece in any living room. The catalog states: "Our table is topped with a 3/8"-thick, pencil-edged, 27" diameter tempered glass top for views from any angle." Interesting - they say that like that's a GOOD thing . . .

So I didn't have any luck finding any Christmas presents for the people on my list today. But I know that I'll run across more ideas as the month goes by - and I'll make sure to keep you in the loop as I do. Because you never know . . . I might find the perfect give for you to give that special someone this year! Just promise me one thing: if you buy that sumo wrestler table for someone, will you let me come over, stand behind it, and giggle uncontrollably like a 15 year old?

Because that would be gift enough for me . . .

Frosty-plasty

2010-12-08T00:00:00.000-06:00

I was out for lunch the other day in Huntsville and I saw a lady painting a Christmas scene on her store window. I was pretty impressed with her artistry so I sat there for a second and admired each part of her little wintry mural.

Aaaaaaand then I saw what I THINK is a snow woman . . .

But that is NOT a carrot . . .