because I didn't want to sweat.

{via flickr}

When I was a young child I declined to participate in strenuous athletic activity. Because I didn't want to sweat.
At least, that's what I've been told.

Perhaps I might have been a ballet prodigy. I guess we'll never know.

I have always loved watching ballet. Sleeping Beauty was one of my favorite movies and I thought the ballet was beautiful. Over the years my father and mother occasionally took me to see the ballet. Once I saw Cinderella, Madam Butterfly; I saw The Nutcracker many times. The strength and power and grace of the dancers was thrilling to me. They looked so beautiful! I loved going to the ballet and hearing the light tapping of the dancer's ballet shoes on the wooden stage flooring as they leapt and twirled. The women were slender, feminine and beautiful. The men were gracefully strong and sturdy, yet masculine (most of the time).
More recently I've been thinking about posture and grace in movement. Not just in dance, but in every day life. I read an article in Vogue (I love Vogue, as we've discussed. Oh, the photographs! The fashion!) about the importance of good posture. Not only for one's health, but a person's posture can say so much about them and how they want to be seen by others. As I've been looking through portraits on The Sartorialist blog, this has become even more clear to me.
As an example of what I mean:

{via The Sartorialist}

This woman is a burlesque dancer. Can't you tell?

On his blog, the photographer remarked that her "posture speaks volumes about who she is and how she wants to be perceived." 

I love that! And there's a small part of me that has always wanted to be a natural red head. And wear bright red lipstick. 

{via The Sartorialist}

That last picture was taken during the 1930s in Spain. Isn't she just so...European? People say it all the time, but it's interesting how clothing goes in and out of style. She looks like she's been shopping at Anthropologie!

But where was I?

Ballet.

I feel it must be said before I say anything further, I have little to no musicality. I have trouble keeping with the beat in songs, I look a little nutty when I dance (not like Elaine from Seinfield or anything), I think I'm slightly tone deaf. And my posture is not so good. About five years ago I started doing Pilates and in the last two years I've done Yoga off and on, and I think that has improved my posture somewhat. But it isn't stellar. And I wouldn't call any movement that I make graceful. I'm a little clumsy and heavy-footed.

In high school I joined the volleyball team. It was my first attempt at organized sports, and I did it because playing volleyball was popular. The first year I made the Junior Varsity team, which I felt was a major blow to my confidence. I was an athletic person, though I'll grant I was not very talented or coordinated. And the other girls on the JV team were just not...very...athletic. The Varsity girls were good. Everyone knew it.

JV was an afterthought.

I'll probably tell a story or two about high school volleyball some day, but my point in bringing it up today is this: I learned to sweat. Have you ever participated in a Summer Volleyball camp? I have still never been that sore in my life. We started early in the morning every day and sweated our way through four hours of intense training. And if you were late you ran laps...and some times the coach forgot about you and you spent two hours running laps. I don't want to talk about it.

So now, with my love of ballet and desire for graceful movement and good posture, along with my willingness to allow sweat to escape my epidermis, I am prepared to do something quite drastic.

I'm going to dance.

Well, perhaps that's a stretch.

I'm going to take a ballet class.

Normally I say I'm going to do these things and then put it off until finally I forget about it (I'm not the only one--once I got a "birthday present" from Daniel that was a promise to take dance lessons with me. It's been four years and I'm not holding my breath). But this time, I emailed Vicki at Ballet Austin and said: Teach me to dance like a Sugar Plum Fairy!

She said: sign up for a class and give us some money, you weirdo.

It was very inspiring.

But I haven't quite gotten to that step yet.

I was happy to learn from Vicki that they offer a "New Beginner" ballet class for adults. Part of me wants to go just to see the kind of people that are grasping hold of their dreams a little late in life like me. Part of me is completely intimidated by the idea of doing something I've never done before. Part of me is totally excited and can't wait to start. I've always wanted to say, "Sorry, I've got ballet class tonight. Rain check?" I've also always wanted to take part in a dramatic dance-off (Me and my posse can pirhouette you under the table, homey!).

That probably won't happen in beginner ballet (or..anywhere but Step It Up?). But I can dream.

I'm a big dreamer, guys.

I don't have any illusions of grandeur (it is illusions or delusions? Either way, I don't have them. Of grandeur.). I don't think I'll ever really be the Sugar Plum Fairy. Or even a mouse (a little ballet humor). I just want to dance. Is that so wrong?

P.S.

The cheesecake didn't taste like a disaster. It just looked like one.

Daniel: Uh, Honey? I think the cheesecake exploded?

I guess I'm no Pioneer Woman.

Benefits of living in a bad economy

I'm so happy it's Friday.

The office is pretty empty. Most of my co-workers are out of town for a big work event. It wasn't in the budget for my department to join them, for which I am very grateful.
I used to enjoy traveling for work, but this year I decided I didn't like it anymore. During the last trip there was a group of girls from the office that were intent on shuffling hotel rooms around so they got to be in the same room with their friends. The girl I was assigned to room with involved herself in the mayhem, which caused problems for me. The whole time I was thinking, It's one night. And it is work. Why does this feel like high school?

From that point on I decided I was going to either a. pay extra to have my own room, or b. find a way to get out of it.
Thanks to the economy, I didn't have to do either. I've become quite attached to my weekends.
Just to think, if times were better I would be on a tiny plane right now on my way to a stinky, smoky, skeevy casino in Biloxi, MS.
Instead I'll be meeting my dear friend Kristin at her adorable little house and walking over to Kirby Lane for dinner. After dinner we'll walk back to her picturesque abode and attempt to recover some old chairs while watching (what else?) a BBC series on Netflix.
And there isn't anything else I'd rather be doing tonight than just that!
Also, she and her husband Johnny have a pet ferret, that is the funniest little creature I've ever seen. She hops and chirps her way around the house, and it is rumored she keeps a stash of bottle corks somewhere inside the couch.
The rest of the non-working weekend involves game nights, IKEA, and espresso. Oh yes. A big cup of coffee on Saturday morning while I sit and soak in the non-workingness of my situation. And maybe a taco from El Primo.

I'll leave you with this excerpt from an email that I wrote yesterday. I feel like it accurately portrays a part of me that I can no longer keep secret from you, world. I understand if, once you've read this, you feel led to never return to this strange place ever again. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Except for Daniel. He isn't innocent and he can't be protected from this, because he married me).

The surprise party I went to last night was for Charlene and she loved her bowls. I felt kind of awkward because everyone else brought flowers, cards, or a bottle of wine and mine was this huge box. I do well in small groups, but I have some serious inner social anxiety at parties. People always laugh at me when I say that, but Daniel can tell and he agrees that I have some issues with awkwardness in large groups. He thinks it is funny and that it's something I inherit from my father. My mom is the complete opposite, and together they formed a strange cocktail of neuroses that manifests itself in my person.


Like, last night I got to the restaurant and was the first person there. I typically like to be early, but prefer to NOT be the first person to arrive at a party.

So I was standing there, with this large heavy box in my hands and there was nowhere to sit except at the bar. And the only seat was next to a rather large woman who had positioned her barstool in such a way that made wedging myself into the chair a very awkward and overly-familiar feat. Normally this would have been enough to deter my efforts, but the box was bulky and I was standing in a walkway in everyone's way. So I decided to go for it.

The room was warm, and once I was finally seated (after bumping into the woman's bulging backside several times, and many "oh, I'm sorry"s and "I beg your pardon"s and mean looks from over her shoulder), the back of my legs began to sweat against the leather chair cushion. This was half due to the warm room, and half due to the physical exertion it took to manuever into my seat. And of course, I was wearing white pants and started to feel self-conscious about the increasing moisture on my backside. To add to all of this, the crowd around the bar began to grow and people were reaching over me to grab their drinks or to pay, and I was feeling very over-whelmed by the whole scene. Personal. Space.

Needless to say, when people started to arrive I was frazzled and clammy and altogether not in a good place. And this sort of thing happens to me nearly everytime I go to large events. I try to be a relaxed, chill person. When I tell Daniel that he just laughs at me. I am easy going about some things, but I guess socially I'm just one big inward mess. And I feel I can share this with you; I hope we can still be friends.

totally thought today was tuesday.

Well, today is off to quite an auspicious start. I don't even know what that means, but I think I'm being sarcastic. At least, I meant to be sarcastic.

This morning everything was running on schedule. I woke up, put on my face, did my 'do, and had no trouble picking out what I was going to wear. When I took the dogs out to do their business, I received almost no pushback. I only had to tell Kingsley "Go poopoo!" one time.
I'm sure our neighbors enjoy hearing Daniel and I yell, "Go poopoo!" "Go peepee!" bright and early in the morning. Oh well.
I went upstairs, kissed my slumbering husband, and headed out the door with plenty of time to spare. So much time to spare that I decided a trip through the Starbucks Drive-thru and a Cafe Vanilla Frappuccino were in order. Mmm.

I was just passing through the hallway outside my office when I had a sudden spasm of clumsiness and...SPLAT. Cafe Vanilla Frappuccino suddenly looked like a pile of poop in the doorway of my office.

It was one of those moments where you just stare and, starting to feel slightly angry, you wonder if there's any way that the drink can be salvaged. I mean, it was still maintaining some shape and "togetherness" due to its frozen nature. I crouched down over the mess, looked around, and felt relief that I get here roughly 30 minutes before most people start showing up. I gave up on trying to salvage the drink.
As I frantically mopped up the mess, I tried not to think about that ice-cold sweetness and $4.00 that was going straight into the garbage.

And all this time I totally thought today was tuesday.

Yesterday, when it actually was Tuesday, one of my co-workers encouraged me to "keep an open mind" about the fact that 9/11 was an inside job.
"Why?"
"Just because; you just never know."
"If you believe that the U.S. Government had a hand in committing a horrible terrorist attack against American citizens, killing over 2,000 people, wouldn't you want to get the heck out of here? I mean, I would."
"Well, I'm just telling you I think you should keep an open mind."
"But why?? Who do you think did it? And what part did they play? And how would that benefit them?"
"I'm just saying. I saw a really interesting video on YouTube about it."
"I see."
And then, I gave up on the conversation.
I just didn't want to talk about it anymore.

I worked out last night for the first time since December. I almost died. But in a good way. In the kind of way when you know you are doing something really good for yourself. I did P90X "Core Synergystics." That is a tough workout!

I nearly fell down the stairs because I was so jello-y after working out. So I grabbed a brownie and went upstairs to watch a movie. I tried watching the movie Brother Sun, Sister Moon about St. Francis of Assisi, but...after about 30 minutes I felt that if I watched anymore of the movie I would literally lose my mind.
I sympathized with the rich people. He was acting crazy. It kind of reminded me of the book "Ferdinand" only he wasn't a bull. But there were a lot of parallels. They wanted him to go fight, but he wanted to sit under trees in the fields and smell flowers. And sing really dumb songs.
And he kept freaking out all the time! What was the deal with that?! He's standing in Mass, looks at the really creepy poor people sitting in the back of the church, then looks at the crucifix, and starts screaming, "Nooooo!" And then he smiles dreamily and says quietly, "..no.." And then he goes to the town square and gets naked. And he has that creepy smile on his face as he runs out of the village, out into the fields...naked.
Meanwhile I was sitting on my bed pulling my hair out yelling, "WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?"
It was like the people who made this film were like, "Let's make a movie with as little dialogue as possible, with weird, minstrel-like music, and zoom in on everyone's faces to capture their completely unidentifiable emotions. Then people will think we are artsy and our film means something deep."
It was so aggravating. So I turned it off.

My apologies if you like that movie. This is only my opinion.

Then I watched The Marriage Ref, Jerry Seinfield's new show. I laughed so hard I cried. You just have to watch this clip.


This was especially funny...and kind of scary...to me because Daniel always jokes about stuffing Fletcher when he dies.
Ha ha ha

Why I Love Austin

(You're about to get up close and personal with my day. I mean it.)
The weather today was perfect.
My older brother Nicholas came into town last night, which always makes me happy.

When I came home from my "girls' night" (which was so fun! I'll write more on that later. Maybe. If I remember.), he was in my kitchen making Panna Cotta for us. When he comes home tonight we're going to enjoy the dessert together.

Today started out as any Saturday should: a little sleeping in, a little cuddling with the puppies and Daniel, and plenty of coffee. 

We sat at the bar of Once Over and talked about Saturday morning type things. Like gardens and building coffee tables and people who practice witchcraft.

Daniel and I parted ways with Nicholas for a bit. We went to Home Depot and Lowe's, bought some wood, took it out to the car, realized it wouldn't fit in the car, and then I left Daniel standing on the side of the road with a bunch of wood while I ran back to the house to get the other car with the seats that lie down.

Then we went to lunch.
We made our way over to Salvation Pizza in the West Campus area.

It was so beautiful outside that we decided to sit in their outdoor area. I insisted we sit in the sun because the shade was too cold.

Daniel complained it was too bright.

But I was wearing sunglasses, so I didn't care.
I told him that would teach him to forget his sunglasses and then he cried and told me I was mean.
Then I told him I thought he looked like a bum.

Then I ordered a Dr. Pepper. Because it's Saturday.

 

We were laughing at a couple trying to parallel-park their car in front of the restaurant (the guy was standing on the sidewalk yelling at the woman driving, "Backupbackupbackup STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP Backbackback STOP! TURNYOURWHEEL! TURNTURNTURN!!") when Nicholas showed up. He'd been at Once Over all day "talking coffee" with Rob (owner of Once Over). 

Nicholas ordered some Bruschetta. I ate some. 

Then came the pizza. And it was good.

And then it was gone.


























After lunch we parted ways with Nicholas again. We had to put our rent check in the mail because we forgot to do it yesterday. Just like we do every month.
After doing the responsible thing, we drove to Half Price Books so I could by Volume One of Shelby Foote's Civil War series. And I've got 3000 pages to go.

We headed over to East Austin in search of an Organic Tea House called Zhi Tea, but they closed at two and we left, dejected.
We drove by the church. Hi, church!

Daniel made me take a picture of this car, also:

Then we went to a couple of pawn shops, got another cup of coffee, and then we came home and Daniel vacuumed while I ran to the grocery store. I made chili for lunch tomorrow, and then I ate some.

Then I came into the office and played on photoshop. And then I blogged.

The End. Almost.

Like a Dog

It's Friday. This day marks the beginning of an extremely busy weekend for my family. My little family.
While I will be charming the pants off of everyone at my company sales meeting (how could you not take that to an inappropriate place? I didn't mean it like that. I don't do that), Daniel will be moving our earthly belongings from one house to another house just three doors down.
I wonder what the neighbors will think?

My amazing, fantastic, selfless Mother-in-law will be filling in for me. I've entrusted her with a few tasks that I am unable to fulfill because I will be at work. All weekend.

I was telling her on the phone last night, rather emotionally, that I was really upset I couldn't be home this weekend and I didn't understand why these two event had to occur the same weekend.
She said calmly, "There is a reason for it."
And I am resting in that. I was feeling really guilty about not being around to help, but no more. It happened for a reason.
Plus, I've been scrubbing toilets and grout and tubs and ovens and stovetops and microwaves and baseboards and freezers and refrigerators all week long as penance.
I wasn't going to let them do everything.

Now I'm simply looking forward to coming home (very late) every evening and seeing the progress. I feel so blessed! We are moving into a much larger house and I am excited about the extra space.

One concern: this new house has stairs. Please pray that no one gets injured while lifting our extremely, freakishly heavy mattress up the stairs. Or anything else for that matter.

Also, yesterday I got the creepiest phone call ever. Ever.
My phone rings.
Hello?
(A voice that sounds like Gollum, obviously veiled by a voice modulator) Hello.
Long pause.
Who is this?
Creepy cackle
Tell me who this is or I'm hanging up.
Creepy cackle again.
The voice speaks, It's interesting how the mind works...
What?
You can see it, but you don't believe it...
Who is this?!
It's me. (another cackle)
I'm hanging up!
(click)

It was Daniel.

Confessions of a Former Model

This may come as a shock to many of you, but I was a model once.
One time.
I think I was in fourth grade. My public school was considering a more strict dress code. So one day I suppose the administration had the novel idea of a uniform fashion show for the parents. They asked students to volunteer, and I nominated myself. It was so exciting! I had seen kids on the runways outside of JC Penney in Mesilla Valley Mall and I wanted to do that.
The weeks (or days, I don't really know. Time meant nothing to me as a child) went by and the fashion show approached. There was a dress rehearsal a few days in advance, just so we could get down the path to follow, the places to stop and turn. Basically so we wouldn't run into each other on the catwalk.
I was nervous. Nervous/excited. It was almost my turn. My moment of glory was at hand. I stepped out on to the runway and strutted my stuff.
I walked to the front of the runway and cocked my hip to one side. Then a turn. Then another turn. I was doing great!
Then the teacher standing below in front of the stage said, "Could you hold on a second?"
I stopped. She totally ruined the rhythm I had going.
"Stop the music, please!" she yelled to the teacher at the soundboard.
I looked at her expectantly as she peered over her glasses at me with a fake smile.
She glanced at her clipboard, "Uh...Karen?"
"Yes ma'am?" (Because I always used my manners)
"Could you...uh, could you swing your arms less? Much less?"
What?
"Uh, ok."
"Thanks, sweetie," she scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips into an even faker smile, "MUSIC!"
I turned, dejected, to walk back stage, paying careful attention not to swing my arms too much.
"Less swinging, please!" the horrible woman shouted.
Oh the horror. I looked ahead to see the smiling eyes of cruel fourth graders awaiting me at the foot of the stage steps.

It was at that moment I realized I could never be a model. First of all, there's my nose. 'Nuff said.
Secondly, I really really tried not to swing my arms too much and it was still too much for this lady. I had (have) no control over the swinging. I needed (need) the swinging to propel my body forward.

Of course, there's no way I could have ever hoped to recover from this miserable humiliation. I have been and will forever be conscious of my overly undulating arms.

Even now, sometimes I will be walking down the hallway at work and suddenly stop short, realizing that I was swinging my arms far too vigorously. I press onward, trying to tone it down.

Our society puts way too much pressure on young women. To have less swingy arms.

I know, I know.

Time is getting away from me. I keep saying I'll update, but there is really so much going on in my life right now! I haven't had a moment.
Soon, I'll tell you what's going on.
For now, I'll leave you with yet another tale from my awkward life and times.

Daniel has been working a lot lately. I hardly get to see the guy.
So last night instead of going to our South Parish meeting to pray, we decided to hang out. Also, I'm just going to be honest: my attention span is so deficit, it never fails that I spend the entire prayer meeting asking God to help me to focus...so sometimes I avoid them.
Last night Daniel and I went to his office so he could take care of a couple of things. It was pretty late in the evening, the whole place was quiet. I had to pee something feirce, so I ran inside to use the restroom. Because we were alone, and I had to go really bad, I left the door open. (There is a point to this)
Moments later I was sitting in Daniel's office when I heard voices nearby. Daniel was around the corner talking to someone. We were not alone.
Daniel came back into the office with a grin on his face.
"There's someone here?!" I whispered.
"Uh huh."
"I peed with the door open!!!"
"Uh huh. Next time, you should make sure that no one else is here."

Awkward.

Concerning my dysfunctional relationship with espresso, etc.

I am blogging on location. 
Right now I am sitting in a dark corner of my favorite coffee shop, Once Over. 

I truly, truly love this place with all of my heart. I come here often - kind of to an embarrassing degree - but I think they appreciate it. On the weekends Daniel and I typically stop by twice a day. Usually they will keep a tab open for us, and we will drink espresso to our hearts' delight.
I come here so often that when I walk in, they start my drink without even taking my order. Skim Latte with Vanilla. On Saturdays it's always "for here," Sunday mornings "to go," and on week days I bring my own cup for a $.15 discount. Or something like that. 
The "baristas" are sweet, good people who are always personable and kind. 

And then there's the coffee. 

So smooth, so rich, so gooooood. It feeds my soul. Sometimes when I drink Once Over espresso, a few liturgical words will cross my mind. Something about "those things which are necessary to our life and to our salvation." It's just that good. And it's pretty much ruined me for all other coffee. "No one does it better." 

. . .

In other news (I know, I say that a lot. I've tried to come up with another "bridging" phrase, but why? Who cares? Not me. Not really), Daniel and I survived the last night of the decade. Or will December 31, 2010 be the last night of the decade? I don't really know. We had a great time either way. I know I said we wouldn't be staying out all night like crazy people. And we didn't stay out all night. But we did stay out until, like, 12:30 AM. We began the evening with a lovely dinner at Polvos (the Cerveza fajitas are da bomb diggity), where our friends the Baileys, Daniel and I shared a pitcher of frozen Margarita(s?). 

It was strong.

It always is at Polvos - another reason why I love that place. But because of the strength of their liquor (btw, the letter "Q" button is missing on my keyboard. I'm not sure what happened to it. It's all part of having a ghetto laptop. Should laptop and ghetto even be in the same sentence?), I had to take a few minutes to get it together...we all did. So after taking it easy for a few minutes, suddenly we looked up, and it was 9:30. Already! 
We made our way over to Shane and Cassidy's big party, and basically the party started when we got there. Everyone was excited we'd shown up and it made me feel happy :) Also, they served me champagne with some sort of berry-flavored liquor mixed with it. That made me feel happy too. 

(In order) Amy, me, and Cassidy feeling happy. 

I also made a new friend, her name was Andrea and she was funny. She also is BFF with a girl I work with. Or...with whom I work. I hate to end on a prepostion. A thousand apologies.
Small world!

Here are the girls at the party:  

The lovely hostess herself

Daniel is, like, so cute.

We ended up hanging out until the clock struck midnight. Then we made some noise Then we danced around to some groovy music. Then suddenly Daniel came through the front door to let me know he had walked four blocks to get the car and it was waiting outside for us to leave. It was very abrupt. But not in a mean or rude way. Just abrupt. We said goodbye, I cried the whole way home (not really), and then I fell fast asleep in the comfort that the next day was a HOLIDAY and I didn't have to go to work.

Happy New Year! 

Post Script: something personal.

Resolute

So 2009 has come and nearly gone.
People keep asking me, "So, any resolutions this year?"
I answer, "To grow up."
And they look at me oddly. No one has asked me to expound on that yet. Maybe they're scared.

I don't really know what it means. I just say it.

Daniel and I are going to eat Tex-Mex tonight. I know, I know--we are so flipping fantastic! We might make an appearance at a few events afterwards, but we've both agreed that we would really like to act like an old married couple tonight. Maybe have a glass of wine and work on a puzzle while watching Fletch (not my dog, the movie. But it is Fletcher's namesake); maybe a little cuddling. We really don't want to get trashed and party till 3 am. That would totally ruin our day off tomorrow. So not worth it.

Last year I got all dolled up and we went to Antone's for a Bob Schneider concert. I stood in a packed room, in really cute, uncomfortable high heels while people spilled beer on me and mistook me for someone else. And then we stood outside in the cold for a couple more hours trying to catch a cab home. Drunk people kept walking out in front of cars and stealing my cabs.

Not cool. Not cool at all.

But I did look cute.
But...so not worth it.

I'll try to snap a few shots tonight to ring in the New Year. I'm excited for 2010! I think it's going to be a good year.

On another note, my company is hosting yet another sales meeting next month. As always, there is a theme. Last year's was "Peace, Love, and Beauty Supplies" and we all had to dress like hippies.
This year the theme is "You're a Star!" and the costume is "red carpet style."
I loathe and despise costume parties. I really try not to be a nay-sayer...but I hate them. And so many people love them! I think 9 times out of 10 when I am planning a party with someone they have the idea of a theme.
And I glare at them, full of wrath. Usually they back down.

But I've had an idea. You might be able to guess who I plan on dressing as--her style is conveniently simple, elegant, and timeless which means I won't have to try too hard (har, har). I can get on board with that.

This has the potential to be yet another dismal failure.

Nostalgia

Well, Christmas has come and gone. Daniel and I had a great time skiing with his family and relaxing together for a few days. I feel refreshed and invigorated! And I have only one dadgum day to go before my next weekend starts.

Don't you love nostalgia?
So wistful. So sentimental. Everything is cast in a near-perfect light.
I am definitely someone who basks in nostalgia from time to time. Complete with half-smiles and contented sighs. Ahh...those were the days...
And then I remember what an awkward person I've been my whole life, and a single memory can wake me from that dreamy state.
Today I've been thinking about this guy.

But when he looked like this:

He really hasn't changed too much.
But I was thinking back in the day when I first met him. Maybe I should say saw him. I remember the first moment I laid eyes on him.
I was a young and spry fifteen years of age. It was mid-morning some time in late January. I was a Sophomore. And I had excused myself from Mrs. Brunson's American Literature I to go to the restroom. I walked out into the hallway and turned to the right. On the stairs to the left I heard some commotion, so I glanced behind me...and there he was. Standing on the top of the stairs in a blue and green striped, short-sleeved Polo and khaki shorts was the best-looking guy I had ever seen in my life. He was tall, tan, and handsome.
I stood and stared at him for a moment as he turned and walked away from me. Who was that???
And then I went about my business.
At lunch that day his name was buzzing around the small lunch room. Daniel. According to gossip, he was the older brother of another new student in our class, Josh. He was a transfer student from a public school. He was bad news. You see, I went to a small, private, Christian school and the slightest ripple in the water was like a tidal wave to us. You also may know that teenage girls love drama.
Especially these girls

"He is definitely the hottest guy in the school."
"He is the hottest guy I have ever seen!"
"Really? I don't think he's all that cute."
"Are you kidding? He's gorgeous!"
"He sits in front of us in Algebra. I couldn't stop staring at him!"
And the conversations went on.
I spent lunch looking across the room at the Junior class lunch table, catching glimpses of this mysterious new boy from time to time.
Later that afternoon I was running errands during study hall for one of my teachers. So young. So carefree...
I darted into the administrative offices to drop off some paperwork but stopped short when I noticed a familiar blue/green striped Polo standing in an office doorway.
Daniel.
I stood staring for a moment before the secretary asked me what I was doing out of class.
"Just, uh, dropping off some, er, papers for Ms. Jo...this period is my study hall," I smiled awkwardly, looking at the papers in my hands.
She held out her hand to take the paperwork, and just as I handed them to her Daniel turned and started walking in my direction.
He was looking at whatever the guidance couselor had handed him and was about to slip by me while mumbling "excuse me" when...I panicked.
"Hey!" I said loudly. Too loud.
He looked up at me with a pair of gorgeous brown eyes.
"Uh, hi."
"You look a lot like your brother!"
He smiled slightly, "Yeah..."
I was drowning. He was obviously weirded out. I glanced at the blue/green striped Polo.
"I like your shirt."
"...thanks..."
"The blue and the green...it reminds me of the sea!" As the words came out of my mouth I remembered thinking what the heck is wrong with you? but the second thought didn't come soon enough. So I laughed. Loudly and awkwardly and for way too long.
"...haha, thanks. Well, see ya." He said as he slowly backed out into the hallway before turning to leave.
"Yeah. See ya."
I looked at the secretary and she smiled strangely at me. A dismal failure.
Well, so much for that. I thought as a wandered slowly back to the portables.

*Daniel claims he has no recollection of this meeting, lucky for me. However, I have reminded him of it many times. Which might have been a mistake, but apparently not because he married me.

After study hall I made my way over to Mrs. Uhrich's Art Class with Christi.
Here we are in high school.

On the way I recounted to her the pitiful exchange between me and the new guy, and then we proceeded to talk about his handsomeness. We sat in our typical spot along the side wall, a great spot for us to pass notes and doodle on each other's notebooks. And watch the boys goof off on the back row.
I was a very diligent student.
Students started to trickle in, but Christi and I were wrapped in conversation, not paying much attention to our classmates. That is, until I heard a familiar voice coming down the hallway. It was the new guy, Daniel, and he was walking down the hall joking with Josh, one of his fellow Juniors (there were a great many Joshes in my life throughout high school; kind of weird, actually). My ears perked up, I glanced in the direction of the voices, and saw that Josh and Daniel were walking into my art class. They scoped out a couple of seats in front of Christi and me and sat down. Christi and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows and stifled giggles, recalling my awkward conversation with Daniel a few minutes earlier.
I thought I would never have a reason to interact with him again--other than a polite, passing hello in the hallway...yet there he was. One row in front of me for the rest of the semester...


Ah, nostalgia.

He.

This is my charming, handsome husband Daniel.

He likes to wear Daniel Cremieux shirts. Or pants. Or jackets. Or ties.

He also likes to wear $10.00 canvas shoes from Wal-Mart. I think he used to get them from Academy, but they started printed a visible label somewhere on the shoe. And he just couldn't handle that.

He works in Texas politics and he's very passionate about his job. Sometimes he gets me really fired up about things. Like last night, as I was drifting off into a peaceful slumber, he started telling me about this evil Texas politician in Tarrant county. Then my blood pressure started rising and I had to rant. I always wonder why I can never get to bed early, no matter what I do.

He also likes to scare me in the shower. I try to tell him that the shower is probably one of the most hazardous places to scare me. Taking a shower is dangerous enough in the first place. He'd really hate himself if I slipped and died. They'd ask him, 'How did she die?' and he'd answer, '...Something startled her in the shower.' And no one would ever know the truth. Years later, a curious reporter might review the police report and say to himself, 'It just doesn't add up...she demonstrated such good balance the last two years of her life. She did yoga..."
Then Daniel would have the curious reporter taken out by a hitman and the truth about my death would die with him...
Also, I have had a life-long fear of something bad happening to me when I am undressed. For example, I just don't understand why anyone would ever sleep naked. I mean, anything could happen. What if the house catches on fire and you don't have time to grab a robe before the flames engulf your body? You'd have to climb out the window without a shred of clothing, and the whole neighborhood would see you. And your naked, charred flesh.
Anyway...
He gets the biggest kick out of it.

Daniel also likes to start lots of projects.

He also takes really, really good care of me. Everytime I go out of town I come home to an extremely clean house and some surprise (which is followed by an awkward moment because I never know how to act when someone gives me something. And I'm just awkward.). It kind of makes me want to go out of town a lot.

I love him more than I love espresso, and in exactly one week, I will be married to this man three years. Three years I've survived shower attacks--that's pretty good, I think.

PW's Bag of Goodies

First off, I want to say that when I showed the girls at work this picture...


...despite the fact that I have no lips when I smile and my hair appears to be a peculiar shade of green, they said, "You look like you could be related!"

?

Anyway. I mentioned before that I gave PW a little gift bag. And then a string of slurred words.
Well, she didn't open the bag right then and there. She was probably a little disturbed and confused because of my inability to speak. But she was kind enough to say, "Turning on your camera is an important step in taking pictures!" (yeah, I forgot to turn on my camera), and then she said, "Ooh thank you! I can't wait to see what it is!"
So here's what I gave her (to channel Julie Andrews, "a few of my favorite things"):


Sebastian Whipped Cream
This stuff is truly, truly, amazing. And when you dispense it, it really looks like whipped cream. But it's not food. It's heavenly hair product that I love.

Aquage Beyond Shine
This stuff is pretty awesome. Makes your hair shiny. Like diamonds and pearls. And it smells funky in a good way.

It's a 10 Miracle Leave-In Treatment
This stuff really is a miracle. Ignore the tacky packaging. This stuff gives your hair amazing softness and overall health. I love it.

These items are only available in professional salons. You can't just pop into Wal-Mart and pick up this stuff.
(Actually, I think due to diversion you can but you shouldn't. No no.)
Did you have any idea I had such great hookups?

The Pioneer Woman

I tried to think of a clever title, but I couldn't. My brain isn't functioning right because I've been standing in heels in a 90 degree room with a bunch of pregnant women for 4 hours.
Why?

All because of this blog.A crowd begins to form...

Ree, The Pioneer Woman, stopped in Austin this evening for her The Pioneer Woman Cooks book tour, and I was totally there. Originally I had planned on going with friends...but they all bailed on me, so I had to face the dreadful, growing social anxiety building inside me and go it alone. I was determined to get my book signed.
My dear, amazing husband was kind and patient enough to show up at Austin's Book People at 3:30 in the afternoon to get me a wristband. He did so well that he even got me into the very exclusive, top secret six o'clock signing. Okay, so it wasn't that secret. But it was sort of exclusive. Only about 50 ladies got to go upstairs at 6 rather then 7 when the book-signing was scheduled.
I stood around looking at the kids' section for a long time, most of the time stressing about I don't know what. Butterflies I guess. And I was ALL ALONE.
But finally I decided to awkwardly start up conversation with an innocent bystander who was clinging, like me, for dear life to her precious cook book. I think I said something stupid like, "Here to get your book signed?"
Duh.
That's what her face said to me.

A few minutes later I was beckoned upstairs, with the 6:00 group, so I left her and made a new friend. She was originally from California, and is now a stay-at-home mom with her 7-month-old twins. A boy and a girl. And they were there! And terribly cute and well-behaved.
I was blabbing to her about goodness knows what. All I know is that some point I told her I was neurotic. And I don't even know what that means.

The 6 o'clock crew


I'm a stalker

Marlboro Man and the Punks bringing in the t-shirts - or - more stalker pictures

PW

There was also another little girl (about 3? or 7? I can never tell) in front of me named Abigail. At first I think she didn't like me because she would kick me, laugh, and then run away. But after a few minutes she started hugging me and wouldn't let go. I tried to act sweet and natural. I continued to try and act sweet and natural when she started crawling on the floor and stuck her head in between my knees. And stayed there. She told me she was pretending to be a squirrel.

Once we actually got into the room, where I was standing in line about 20 feet in front of PW, Abigail's attachment to me continued to grow. She started running across the room and then running at me full speed until she crashed into me with her full body weight.
Adorable, right?

Finally she got distracted when she noticed that rubbing her head on the carpet made her hair stick up. So she started rubbing her head on the floor. And that was the end of our tumultuous relationship.

This is where Abigail rubbed her head.

If I weren't camera-shy in reverse, I might have documented this in photos. But I simply did not. Also, I was being physically assaulted by a really adorable three year old.
Right about the time Abigail learned how to create static-electricity, it was my turn to meet Ree. And so I did. And we made up a secret handshake and became best friends forever and then she asked me to come live at the lodge.
Actually...
I gave her a small gift of my favorite beauty products, since I work for a beauty supply distributor. I started to tell her this, but my speech started slurring (nervous much?) so I stuck with, "Hi" and "Thanks" and finally, "Bye."

Ree, me, and my lipless smile that I've had to embrace. Because God made me that way.

Her sister Betsy was there, looking trim and cute. She gave me a t-shirt. I'll love her forever because she told me the shirt sizes ran very small, held up the smallest size, and said, "This will definitely fit you."

That's Betsy in the gray shirt.

Thanks, Betsy.
I hope the shirt fits.

After that it was time to return downstairs and wait for Ree's Q&A. The crowd had grown enormous, so I got stuck standing behind a bookshelf in front of these two charming ladies:

They told me they were trying to look stupid--in hopes that Ree would put up a picture of them on her blog. I told them I'd put them on my blog, but they didn't seem too impressed. Even when I told them my mom reads it.
I don't think they look stupid. Well. Maybe. A little.
Plus, they turned out to be friends with benefits because they let me stand up on their stools and take pictures of Ree. And this guy...

He wanted us to cheer for Ree because she's a rock star. So we did.
And, after yelling, "FOUR SECONDS!" she floated gracefully down the stairs.

Then she apologized for the 4-second delay. She had to pee.
And then she opened the floor for questions. She was gracious and funny and kind.

Ree speaking; her family to the right on the stairs.

After that I headed home with my loot: a signed book and a really cute t-shirt. I had a wonderful time!!

www.thepioneerwoman.com