Archive for Silly Stories

One Out of 2,000,000

Growing up in a town of 10,000 people, I fully expected to run into people I knew everywhere we went.  You couldn’t go anywhere without knowing somebody, if not everybody. 

It’s been almost five years ago that we moved to this city of TWO MILLION people, and I’m constantly surprised at how often I run into familiar faces here and there.  Just last week, Arle, Grammy and I went to lunch at California Pizza Kitchen and one of my closet clients was seated at the table next to us.  A couple of weeks ago, my friend Jessie and I were out shopping when we randomly ran into our friend, Kristin.  Each year at the Plaza Art Fair, it never fails that we run into all sorts of acquaintances among the thousands of people there.  I regularly bump into peeps I know at the grocery store, pediatrician’s office, Starbucks, and all sorts of other places. 

So, it really shouldn’t have surprised me yesterday morning at church when I suddenly realized I recognized the face sitting in the seat directly in front of me.  My attention was drawn to her as she turned to whisper something to her husband during praise and worship.  I saw her profile and it seemed familiar to me.  My brain immediately started flipping through my internal Rolodex of faces to try and place hers. 

Suddenly, it hit me.  My stomach did a flip-flop. 

She’s the girl that does my bikini-waxing. 

Not eyebrows, not mustache…bikini. 

The only other person I would have been less excited to see would have been my gynecologist.

To many of you this may not be that big of a deal.  To those of you who are modest-minnies like myself, this is mortifying. 

I was raised by, possibly, the MOST modest woman in the entire world (in fact, if it wasn’t for her love of fashion and her fabulous hair, I’ve always felt she would make a fantastic Amish woman).  Much of her modesty was imparted into her daughters and I’ve always considered it an admirable trait. 

I’m actually sitting here in Starbucks writing this and nervous about even mentioning the fact that I get bikini-waxes.  I assure you I’ll be receiving a phone call about it from my mother and will probably be scolded, not only for writing about it, but also for just getting them in the first place. 

Bikini-waxing is one of those things that took me quite a while to even muster up the courage to do.  I justified it by telling myself, “The benefits will totally be worth it and, outside of the salon, it’s not like I’m ever going to see the person doing it.” 

But then she shows up at my church.  In the seat directly in front of me.  Notice how I say it’s “my church?”  As if only those I give permission to are allowed to enter the building? 

Needless to say, I avoided eye-contact and high-tailed it out of there as soon as the service was over. 

Knowing my luck, though, she and her husband will probably join our small group.

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Good Girl Gone Bad

Growing up, I was pretty much a goody-goody.  Just ask my brothers.  They love to remind me of this fact.  They act like it’s a bad thing, but looking back on it, I’m soooooo glad I was. 

I attempted to run with the “wild” crowd in 6th and 7th grades, but soon realized that I wasn’t very good at being “bad.” 

My older brother was the rebel in the family and watching him make his mistakes was probably the best medicine for me.  I’ve always said he was a great role model for me, because I pretty much knew that, as long as I did the opposite of what he was doing, life would be much easier.

So, here I am at age 31, and I’ve rebelled and done something I never thought would do.  I’ve done something irresponsible and crazy.  Something looked down upon by the masses.  Brace yourselves, because your perception of me is about to change….FOREVER. 

I’ve dropped out of school.

That’s right.  I’m officially a Ju-Co drop out. 

Last night I went to my third cake decorating class.  Half-way through, I decided I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I have now officially wasted six hours of my life on this class, and I refuse to waste anymore time on it.  I looked over at Kristin and told her I didn’t want to come back next week for the last class.  She jumped on board with my plan ASAP.  We’re dropping out together, which somehow makes me feel better about the whole thing. 

I’m trying to remember the last time I actually quit something, but am having a hard time coming up with any examples.  I’m sure there’s something I’ve quit, but it’s just not a normal thing I do. 

And I’m not giving up on cake decorating all together, either.  I’m just giving up on this ridiculous class.  Kristin and I are convinced that we can be fantastic cake decorators, which is bizarre because we truly were the worst students in the class.  We couldn’t make icing roses if our lives depended on it.  I really tried, too, but just couldn’t get it.  Kristin pretty much put threw her piping bag down and gave up after her first failed attempt.  We just keep telling ourselves we only stink at that style of decorating and that we could do our style SO much better. 

We’re totally going to have cake decorating sessions on our own and I’m sure our creations will end up on the pages of Martha Stewart magazine.  Just wait and see.  Martha will probably even want us to come on her show and demonstrate our innovative skills.  I should probably start interviewing nannies now, because I can just see my life getting pretty busy and hectic once Kristin and I hit the road for our book signing tour.  You will all be able to say you knew me before I became a star. 

Lucky you.

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Spelling Is Important

The following “document” made it into my email inbox and I thought it was pretty funny.  Hopefully, you will too.  Or, perhaps you’ll be extremely offended, in which case I advise you to lighten up. :)

att00002

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Icing Roses and One Strange Elephant

As you all may expect, Travis was walking on cloud 9 last night and this morning, as he repeatedly gloated about how vindicated he felt after reading all of your comments on yesterday’s post.  I would just like to say I did some research on yearbook guy and he’s “fo’ reelz, yo.”   He is a yearbook archivist and basically sells the celebrity pics to media outlets.  I’ll admit, it’s still weird, but at least I know it wasn’t technically a scam.  You will all be glad to know that I decided not to go through with it, though.  My precious yearbooks will remain hidden away in our attic amongst other things I hold dear to my heart. 

Now…onto more serious matters.

A couple of months ago my crafty friend, Kristin, and I discovered the local junior college offers a cake decorating class.  Our fabulous husbands overheard our conversation and decided to enroll us in the class as a Christmas gift.  Kristin and I were both ecstatic about the surprise and finally went to our first class last night. 

This is where things started going downhill. 

Kristin and I had visions of learning how to create really chic, cool cakes like this:

Chic Cake

We quickly realized we were going to learn to make cakes like this:

ick

I’m not quite sure why we weren’t a bit more suspicious of a junior college decorating class.  It’s as if we thought we were signing up at a French culinary school. 

We sat for two hours listening to the instructor go on and on and on about us learning to make roses out of icing…I’m not exactly an icing-rose-kind-of-gal, ya know (no offense to those of you who are)?  She’s also a huge proponent of buying your cakes at the grocery store and then decorating them (even though she told us over and over and over that these cakes were probably baked 10-30 days prior).  I know not everyone enjoys baking like I do, but come on.  If I’m going to spend this kind of time decorating a cake, it darn well better taste good once it’s cut into. 

I know, I know.  I’m a big fat snob. 

I’m determined to get something out of this class, though.  We’re going to continue attending and, by golly, I’m going to bake Arle the best birthday cake EVER.  Well, maybe not the best one ever, but it will surely look better than the one I made for her first birthday. 

1st Birthday Cake

Can you tell what it is?  I’m guessing the answer is no.  It’s OK, most of the guests at the party couldn’t make it out either.  It was supposed to be an elephant.  I found this great elephant cake pan on-line and thought that if you bake the cake in that pan it would look like an elephant.  Well, it did at first.  But then I slathered it up in green butter cream frosting and it suddenly looked awful.  A bit phallic, actually.  I panicked.  I had purchased the white M&Ms to make polkadots because the invitation had a white polka dotted elephant on it.  During my last minute panic attack, I decided to just trace the elephant “parts” with the M&Ms.  Not exactly what I had in mind, but the party was in an hour and a mommy’s gotta do what a mommy’s gotta do. 

So, like I said, I’m going to learn how to do something in this class.  Even if it’s something as simple as how to keep the cake crumbs out of the frosting during the spreading process.  Wish me luck.

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How Do You Say “Momdiggity” In Italian???

Sometimes I have a tendency to do things without really thinking about it.  I’m trying to think up some good examples, but am drawing a blank at the moment (I’m sure Travis could give me an endless list of examples, but I’m not really in the mood to hear them).  I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-kind-of-girl, plain and simple.  I see something I love, I buy it.  I see something that looks yummy, I eat it.  I think of something to say, I say it.  I rarely take a step back and think about the reasons I shouldn’t do these things…perhaps it’s a disease??? 

Last night, I may have outdone myself.

Travis and I have been tossing around the idea of taking a vacation sometime in the next few months.  This all came about because our friends, Kent and Traci, actually approached us about possibly going somewhere together again (we went to Vegas with them last year).  So, I’ve been perusing some travel sites to try and find a fun and somewhat inexpensive getaway.  Last night I received an email from Luxury Link, an auction site much like ebay, but instead of bidding on a ceramic mule statue, you bid on fabulous vacations.  I’ve always loved looking on this site and daydreaming about the gorgeous destinations they offer, but I’ve never actually bid on anything. 

Until last night. 

I came across a package that seemed to good to pass up.   Not only did I bid (the minimum bid, none the less) I also won.  Here’s what our $750 will get us:

A 5-night package for 2 in Florence, Italy that includes:

  • 5 nights in a Junior Suite with garden view
  • Round-trip private car transfers between the Florence airport or train station and the hotel
  • Champagne and fresh fruit in suite upon arrival
  • Continental breakfast for two each morning
  • Sunset drink for two on one day of your choice
  • Choice of activity for two
    • Full-day guided tour of the Chianti countryside, including private car and chauffeur
    • 3-hour private cooking lesson, including gourmet 3-course dinner
  • Entrance tickets and reservations for two to the Uffizi Gallery
  • Complimentary parking
  • 1,000 Bonus Miles (see details below)
  • Taxes & service charges

Click here to check out the hotel we would stay at.  Pretty fab, eh???

The other thing that makes this whole thing fantastic is that Trav and I have enough American Express points for two free round-trip tickets to Europe!  How could I NOT bid on this?  

I received an email this morning saying I had won the trip.  I called Trav to tell him and let’s just say he’s not exactly thrilled with me right now.  He is the exact opposite of me and likes to put loads of thought into each and every decision.  Even though he was sitting right next to me when I put in my bid and seemed (to me) like he was fine with me bidding on this steal, he insists that he did nothing to give me the impression that he was behind me on this deal.  He’s claiming that I should have never assumed he was totally paying attention to me since he was in the middle of watching an OU basketball game.  I’ll admit that was definitely a mistake on my part.  Trav takes OU basketball VERY serious. 

I’ll also admit, I didn’t read the fine print to realize that bidding entered me into a “binding” contract.  Of course, my attorney husband seemed to find this info quite easily when I called him this morning to tell him we won.  I thought that if we decided not to go, we just wouldn’t give them our payment info in the 24-hour time-frame required and we would be out of the deal.  Evidently that’s not how these things work.  I’ve apologized to Trav for being so irresponsible and am hoping he’ll find it in his heart to forgive me. 

The other kink in this grand plan of mine is that I was pretty much the worst friend EVER.  I completely forgot about Kent and Traci during my bidding madness and now I feel like a big jerk because we didn’t consult them about it, but we’re hoping they are going to brush off their best Italian shoes and hop on a plane with us.  We’ll see.  I’ve also apologized to Traci for being such an awful, inconsiderate friend and am hoping that they also will find it in their hearts to forgive me. 

So, for now we’re trying to work out all the logistics in order to make this trip happen.  Who knows, though, we could be putting this trip up on ebay right next to the “unusual heart shaped potato.”

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Happy ’09!!!

I’m a few days late with my Happy New Year wish, but I still wanted to get it out there.  We brought in the New Year by having two couples over for dinner and a mean game of Taboo (at which the guys cheated, btw).  My Martha Stewart-ish friend, Kristin, read about a Spanish tradition of eating 12 grapes at midnight and keeping track of how many are sweet and how many are sour.  For each sweet grape you eat, you’ll have that many “good” months over the next year.  For each sour grape, you’ll have a “bad” month.  She skewered all the fruit and brought them over for us to enjoy with our champagne as the clock struck 12.  I ended up with 10 sweet and two sour grapes.  I think I can deal with that:) 

Cheers!

Cheers!

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Let’s Potty!!

So, as I mentioned yesterday, last week was filled with lots of blogging material.  As Trav would say, it was “blogtastic”.  I’m worried that I won’t be able to do today’s story any justice, but I’m going to go ahead and try.  It’s really a story that’s better told in person so I can actually use hand motions and all, but here we go.

On the first day we were in New Mexico, we went to visit my grandparents.  We were all sitting in the living room talking, when suddenly Arle walked to the middle of the room and started pulling her shirt up with one hand and pulling her pants down with the other.

I said, “What are you doing?  Do you want to go potty?”

Since she’s never gone “potty” before, I never expected her to make a beeline to the toilet, but that’s exactly what she did.  I immediately got up to see what she was doing and by the time I made it to the restroom, she was peering inside the toilet with a very determined look on her face.  I decided to just see what would happen, took her pants and diaper off, and sat her up on the throne.

She didn’t even flinch at the odd feeling of her tiny hiny hanging over a hole filled with water, but instead just dangled her little legs and had the most serious face on.  I was squatting down in front of her with my hands on her knees when whe noticed a kleenex in my hand.

She immediately grabbed it from me and reached behind herself to wipe, then promptly brought the kleenex to her nose to wipe it, then back to the bum, then back to the nose, then opened her legs and wiped in the front.  At this point (through my laughter) I told her we needed to throw the tissue in the toilet, but she refused to do it until I pulled her off and she could turn around to see what she was doing.

I finally got her to let go of it, but then she immediately stuck her hand INSIDE the toilet to pull the tissue out!  I was completely grossed out by the entire thing, but trying to be the encouraging supporting Mommy at the same time.

Do you cheer for your daughter when she wipes her nose with the same tissue she just wiped her bum with????   I explained that you do NOT do this, but gave her a hip-hip-hooray for attempting the entire thing.  Luckily, Arle doesn’t mind if you laugh at her, because my mom and I were laughing throughout the whole process.

She actually seems to enjoy entertaining us and I guess she saw this as one more opportunity to do just that.  She asked to go potty a few more times while we were there, but has yet to deposit anything into the toilet other than tissue.   Unfortunately, I have no pics or videos to show you from our potty adventures.  I figure someday Arle’s going to be mortified to find out I’ve shared this story with the world and I’m afraid posting photos might really upset her.

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