Who Doesn’t Love A Good Cow Skin?

I finally got a new rug…and by “rug”, I don’t mean “toupée”!

I’ve been decorating my house for what seems like an eternity, since I’m not made of money and all. So far, I’ve purchased a new sofa, a new coffee table1, a new dining room table2, and two vintage mid-century modern mohair-covered chairs that I’ve already decided I no longer want. Easy come, easy go, I guess.

Clearly I’ve got the furniture thing down pat. Floor coverings are a whole different ball of wax, though. I’ve looked and looked for floor coverings but, to date, haven’t found any I felt I just had to have. In fact, I’ve ordered two and sent them both back. I’ve sweetly asked people much stronger than me to help me carry rugs I’ve taken out on approval up to my condo to try out. I’ve scoured the interwebs and every single store I could think of who carries rugs, but never found anything I liked. Or, let’s be honest, that I could afford. My “champagne taste on a beer bottle budget” mantra has reared its ugly head more than once in this process. But I digress.

Someone mentioned the possibility of having a skin as a floor covering, but since I’m an unabashed animal lover and don’t like being overly trendy or Texas-y, I shied away from the idea. I don’t have mad interior designer skillz, however, I know what I like when I see it, so when I saw this good quality brindle rug for a mere $225, I practically mowed down the people around me to ensure I didn’t lose out. And I am happy to report that I’m the proud owner of a new 8×6′ brindle cow skin rug!

The best part about my new cow skin rug is that I think my cat may or may not think she has a new “friend”. I was a little concerned she might freak out from the smell or texture, being that it was alive at one point and all, but she seems to have taken to it like the big-boned little trouper she is. I don’t have to worry that I leave her alone a lot these days3 since she has become one with our new cow.

So what do you think of it? I love it and, between the cow skin rug and my new gun, dare I say I’ve become fully re-ensconced in Texas life? :-)

1“Coffee table” has always seemed like such an odd name for a piece of furniture to me since a) I don’t drink coffee and b) I don’t put coffee cups on my “coffee table”.
2 But for which I have not purchased chairs.
3 What?! Don’t Look at me like that! I have a life and stay really busy — what can I say?!

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In Your Face

Old Nose

Exactly 46 days ago, I had a nose job.I know — it’s hard to believe, isn’t it? In fact, prior to the surgery, I told several people what I was doing and literally every one of them said “I really don’t think  you need a nose job.” I appreciated their sentiment but I needed it.

Here’s why: anyone who has ever slept in the same city room as me knows that my snoring and I were pretty much single-handedly sawing down the Redwood National Forest on a nightly basis. I was keeping everyone else up but, mostly, I was keeping myself up. I was always exhausted, even after getting eight hours of “sleep” and was barely able to make it through my work day, much less through my busy social life post-work.

So I did what any smart girl would do and scheduled appointments to meet with three plastic surgeons. All three of them told me the same thing: I had a major deviated septum (read: I was physically prevented from breathing out of the left side of my nose and was only getting 25% airflow through it — 25%!). In other words, I was pretty much breathing through one side of my face. Hello…we all know what lack of oxygen does to the body and it isn’t good, that’s for sure! Plus, since it was a medical condition, the “inside” part of the surgery was all done for the mighty, mighty price of free (thank you, company for which I work!). Sadly, the “outside” portion was not, but no matter — I’ve started growing a money tree on my patio to take care of this expense.

Four weeks later, there I was at St. Luke’s Hospital at the crack o’dawn being wheeled into the operating room with a nurse wearing an LSU hat. This, I thought, could only mean good things. Sure enough, three hours and one improved nose later, I was all fixed up. Once I was home, my amazing momma went into overdrive taking care of me — she cooked for me, cleaned for me, took care of Abby (my cat), made sure I wasn’t comatose from the copious drugs I was taking, and shoveled frozen peas into baggie after baggie so my black eyes would go away.  The bottom line is that my mom rocks!

I’m not going to go into the gory details because, really, who cares? But know this: it was all worth the wait.

New 46-day-old nose

My nose is definitely still in the healing stage, but it was worth it all. It was worth the not-blowing-my-nose-for-46-days. It was worth the tip-of-my-nose-is-still-numb-which-feels-oh-so-weird. It was even definitely worth the fact that my nose is still swollen and will be for several more months (well, maybe this isn’t so worth it), because the fact of the matter is that I can now breathe!!!

I’ve asked very good and reliable sources, and have been assured that I’m no longer snoring when I sleep. This, I can tell you, is worth every single thing that comes along with major surgery. What else is good? I no longer feel like an 87 year-old woman who needs to nap every five minutes at 10 am. Trust me — that’s  not at all good for work productivity…not good at all! I finally have a ton of energy and am sleeping like one billion times better. It’s made the people sleeping in the same city room as me happy, especially my cat who was threatening to register a complaint with animal protection about it. And, the cosmetic work I had done didn’t change the way I looked, a la Jennifer Grey, but reduced the projection of my nose by 1/2 inch, reduced the width, and made it smaller all-around (maybe one day soon I’ll actually get to see the final result…like when this freaking swelling goes down!).

The bottom line is that I’m happier than I’ve been in a long, long time because I can finally breathe…which is kind of a big deal. All I can say is I’ve seen god and it’s in the form of my plastic surgeon. Bless this man — bless him long time!

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Filed under I Love Narcissism

Geaux Tigers!

Yes, I know it’s only day five of NaBloPoMo and yes, I know that I’m already phoning it in, but I can’t blog because I’m busy watching the loves of my life, by which I mean LSU Football, beat the hell outta Alabama! The #1 ranked school, LSU, against the #2 ranked school, Alabama, should make for one of the most exciting college football games in recent memory and, being that I’m a die-hard LSU fan who grew up bleeding purple and gold, this day is pretty much like manna from heaven. I’ve even trained my cat to love LSU and she just became an American 16 months ago!

I’m in a college football pool and actually chose Alabama as this year’s likely national champion (for which I’ll get ten extra points if I’m right), and I don’t want to alarm you, but know this: if LSU wins the game against Alabama, anyone in a five square mile radius of wherever I am will hear me screaming at the top of my lungs and doing a major, major happy dance.

I don’t ask for much, but I’m asking today: at 7pm Central Time tomorrow, I’m asking everyone to send their collective good vibes for a huge LSU win from wherever you are to Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

All together now….GEAUX TIGERS!

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Pumped Up Kicks

I finally got some new kicks this week! My other trainers were nearly falling apart, what with my four-times-a-week workouts and wearing them hiking in Colorado; and while I may or may not spend copious amounts of money on new clothes, shoes, and purses, running shoes just seems so, well, utilitarian. Getting new running shoes is kind of like getting socks and underwear at Christmas — is it really a gift or is it just a necessity Santa puts beneath the tree under the guise of a present?

The bottom line is that my old shoes were looking eerily similar to worn out tires — the tread was gone and when I did the penny test1, I could see every single bit of Lincoln’s hat. ;-) So off I went to Luke’s Locker to procure myself some safe new shoes. I’ve even added a photo to show you how unsafe I was being by continuing to wear those unsafe shoes! Rebel yell, yo! And to make myself feel better about spending money on a “necessity” when I could have been out buying things like clothes, shoes, and purses. :-)

Being that I’m not usually a creature of habit and am someone who will always try something new, it seems ironical that I got the same pair of running shoes I’ve been wearing since the earth cooled — my beloved Asics Gel Nimbus. When you find trainers you like, you stick with ‘em. I’m not crazy about the color I got, but I wear a 7.5C shoe (not an 8B like I normally have to cram my foot in) and Asics only sells that size shoe in this weird pinky-orangey-tie-dye shoe. Whatevs — they fit like a glove and what could be more important than running in shoes that actually fit and don’t make me feel like one of Cinderella’s stepsisters before the ball. W00t, indeed.

Now I’m pumping up my new kicks and going for a run!

1 I always wondered how to do the penny test while I lived in Canada since the Queen (who’s on their penny) doesn’t wear top hats. Inquiring minds want to know.

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Filed under NaBloPoMo, Random, shoes

Why I Love My Friends

Some things make me giddily happy, like “tights and boots” weather, making braised meat stews in winter, kicking ass at work, and volunteering with the Junior League.

Not many things, though, make me as happy as spending time with my girlfriends. There’s just nothing like sipping a cocktail; talking about shopping, work, and boys; and laughing giant belly laughs with really fantastic people, which is exactly what I did tonight.

What’s great about my friends is that we never sit around and turn into mean girls like so many women I know; we don’t gossip incessantly or get jealous when one of us does well or lands a date with the super hot guy we’ve all been lusting over. Nope — my friends inspire me, support me, keep me grounded, and make me bowl over with laughter. They’re wicked smart and extremely successful in their professional lives. They care about their friends and families just like I do and, when one of us is down and out, they are the first person calling to be by your side. They also float me money for the valet parking I inevitably use but for which I never have cash.  Basically, my friends are amazing people.

We had a weekly Thursday thing until a couple of months ago when we all went through some big events in our lives; we didn’t stop talking, natch, but our “Real Housewives” Thursday night ritual1  went on a bit of a hiatus. It had been two weeks since we’d gotten together, and we pretty much sucked up every bit of oxygen in the room catching up. Three hours later, with tummies full of good food, good wine, and soreness from the copious laughing, we hugged each other, kissed each others’ cheeks, said our “I love yous”, and made plans to get together the following week.

As we were leaving, three other women were leaving together. They were considerably older than us, but looked like they’d had as much fun as we had. They hugged each other, kissed each others’ cheeks, told each other they were loved, and went on their merry little ways. We just looked at each other, giggled, and said “there we are in 30 years.”

They say good people have good friends. I knew I was good…but I didn’t know I was this good.

1And by “Real Housewives ritual”, I mean drinking a ton of wine and only getting through ten minutes of the show.

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Filed under Friends, NaBloPoMo

The Best Gun Commercial Ever

Without fail, almost every time someone in Canada found out I was from Texas, they asked me the same thing: whether I owned a gun. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised since Texas is forever being portrayed as the wild west where everyone rides around on their horse wearing spurs and carrying their AK-47.

Someone in Toronto actually asked me if I was scared to walk around outside in Houston. I think my mouth may have dropped open from the absurdity. This may come as a surprise, but nothing could be further from the truth. Houston is the fourth largest city in the States with a population about the same as Toronto (~4M). We drive cars (mostly big giant ones because we have tons of space), work in concrete skyscrapers and live in air-conditioned pods nine months a year.

While we may not ride horses to work, we do have liberal gun laws. In Texas, you can own a gun (as long as you have a license for it) and use it if someone comes onto your property. We can also carry concealed handguns in Texas (as long as you have completed a Concealed Handgun License (CHL) course and have a license to conceal carry). I’ve never been a big fan of guns. I grew up in suburgatory where we were one step away from Stepford and the only gun my dad had was a .22 rifle he used to shoot the squirrels that would occasionally run on top of our roof. Guns were just foreign to me.

Do I believe private citizens should have the right to own an Oozie or some other insane sawed-off semi-automatic weapon? No. But does our Constitution give us the right to bear arms if, in fact, we want to own one? Yes. Yes, it does. So when I moved back to Texas, though, I decided that I have a right to own a gun, and wanted to learn to properly handle and shoot one. I started going to the gun range with some friends (side note: let me just say that the gun range may or may not be the new place to meet very hot guys shooting their guns. Just sayin. Ahem.) and found out that I was actually a pretty good shot. And because I’m never one to sit back on her laurels, I decided that I was going to get my CHL just in case I ever needed to carry a gun outside my house. So I applied with the State of Texas and now just have to practice shooting more and take the CHL course.

Not surprisingly, there are a ton of places in Texas to get your CHL. It’s a ten-hour course (eight hours of class and two hours of shooting to prove you’re proficient) and is only about $100. Seems pretty low key, right? Wrong. At least at Crockett Keller’s in central Texas.

Mr. Keller recently caused a bit of a fuss over his newly-recorded commercial touting his CHL course. It’s a short 1-minute radio spot that I’ve put here for your listening pleasure.

I know, right? The best part is that this spot was totally fo realz — seriously, who could make this up?! I’ll have Mr. Keller know that I voted for the current “invader-in-chief” as he so eloquently put it, but I’m pretty sure that, after sizing me and my blonde self up, he’d teach me the course. Some of it may be to incite people and get ‘em talking, which he most certainly did. But no one — not even me — should be surprised when someone in Toronto asks them if they’re scared to walk around outside, what with quacks like the Crockett Keller’s of the world.

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Filed under Texas

Third Time’s A Charm

It’s been so long since I’ve visited my blog that I literally had to get out my commercial-grade Dyson dust buster to clear off the six inches of dust and 739 cobwebs that had accumulated on my site. I had completely forgotten my password and had to dig deep into my php files to find it which, by the way, I never, ever recommend anyone attempting. I’m actually surprised I lived to tell about that particular experience. Just like your grandma’s attic, though, the dust has been officially blown off of this bad boy all in honor of National Blog Posting Month!

I tried participating in #nablopomo last year and fell off the wagon after a mere three days. Then I got the crazy idea to blog about Texas, but I didn’t do any traveling around Texas and, ergo, had nothing to blog about. I’m keenly aware that this, my third attempt at reviving my blog, falls clearly into the “stop crying wolf” category, but because blog readers can be so demanding and because I continue getting comments like “I really miss your blog” or “your really have mad blog posting skillz” or “what the hell are you doing these days” or “dear god, please blog again, woman!”, and because, honestly, I miss it here, I’m going to give this the old college try again. 

I may not make it all the way through, but I promise you this: I’m going to do my very best to make this blog less about blogging and more about being seriously RAD!  So cue the trumpets and confetti tossing because I’m back…well, for 30 days anyway.You’re welcome. :-)

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Filed under NaBloPoMo, Texas