Reunited

Well, hey, friends.

I've been out of town for almost an entire week so it feels nice to be back to my regular life which includes, but is not limited to, ignoring all the laundry that needs to be done, pretending that dinner is going to fix itself and wondering if there is a chance I might not need to put on real clothes today.

I was in Texas for my high school reunion and chose to add a couple of days on either side of the weekend to spend with my parents. (Also, the airlines feel like they're justified in asking you to empty all of your bank accounts and sell off one of your children if you want to fly Friday - Monday, so you might as well stay awhile.)

Rockwall County Courthouse

My family lived in Dallas until I was nine and then my dad bought a boat and decided we should live on a lake, so we moved out to a suburb, Rockwall, which is about 25 miles away from Dallas on Lake Ray Hubbard. The reunion was a delight. That would be because there is perhaps no better way to spend your weekend than hanging out with people who have known you since you were 10 years old wearing a ruffled purple shirt and Luv-It jeans with a comb stuck in the back pocket while you went roller skating on Friday nights.

My best friend from high school, Lori, came in from Birmingham (we left our people at home) and we both stayed with my parents so it was exactly like our sleepovers in high school. My mom and dad couldn't sleep waiting for us to come home and they made us breakfast each morning.

(Yes, my 48 year old self did get a text from Mom at 1:30 am saying "HELLO?!?!?" And for the thousandth time I praised God on behalf of my 17 year old self for the lack of Iphones in the 80s.)

We got ourselves all dolled up and had my parents take our picture about 75 times. We all like to drone on about how self-absorbed the new generation is, but I'm here to tell you that Lori and I spent an enormous amount of time curling our bangs and taking photos of each other in high school. The only difference this time was that we didn't have to rush to the drug store with our Kodak Disc Camera to develop our film.

Thank goodness for the Iphone which saved us the delay in throwing a fit over the state of our hair in said photos. Listen, you can take the girls out of Texas, folks, but you can't take the Texas out of the girls. I just cannot imagine the joy and sheer amount of time wasting the Photo Layout App would have brought to our high school selves.

Much of the conversation among my classmates throughout the weekend revolved around ye olden days. We talked about the fact that we didn't have a McDonald's until our junior year and when it was built you would have thought Jesus Himself had shown up. Over the years, my grandmother must have mentioned no less than three hundred times how proud she was of our first stoplight which came in at the intersection of the Sonic and one of our two 7-11s. What would really surprise my kids is that in the 80s at my high school if you broke a rule, you had a choice between detention and "getting licks" from the principal/coach. Our principal/coach who everyone adored had a photo of John Wayne on his wall. When you were told to put your hands on the desk and look at The Duke you knew what was coming. Getting licks was never as bad as you thought it would be. At least that's what I was told by all my delinquent friends. ;-)

We noticed a lot of changes in our not-so-little-anymore town, but the essence of the place was the same. Let it be known that Friday Night Lights is still alive and well in the great state of Texas. I got all misty eyed and giddy when my mom and I attended the Homecoming Parade. Everyone was wearing their Angry Orange shirts. 

Photo from Lisa Hayden Grandy -Class of '87 :-)

(Sidenote: we are the Yellowjackets so I really have no idea why we weren't yellow and black, but in Texas we do what we want, so whatever.)

I thought I might break into a full on meltdown when the band marched by playing our fight song. Then I got down right embarrassing when I yelled out to one of the Homecoming Princesses I recognized, "I KNOW YOUR MOM!".

Photo from Kathleen Plagens Evan's FB page - I KNOW HER.

When Lori and I drove up to the football game Friday night, it seemed at first like walking into a time machine except that now our quaint little town's stadium rivals some college stadiums in size and stature. When we got our tickets we were instructed to go up the elevator to meet the Class of 1987 on the mezzanine.

Elevator? Mezzanine? I don't mind telling you I was a little bit like this:

But once we got in and started seeing faces and hugging necks it seemed like not a thing had changed in thirty years.

Here we are on the Mezzanine because FANCY PANTS

I know that when we look back on high school we sometimes tend to remember how much angst there was. How much confusion about who we were supposed to be and who we really wanted to be. I was no stranger to insecurity and self-image issues. I wish I could go back and tell that girl how important she was to God exactly the way she was and that her hair and her weight and her looks were not at all what was important. But, I can't.

Last night I watched This is Us and there was a line that resonated with me so deeply after having spent my time among people I had known so long.

There's no such thing as a long time ago. There are only memories that mean something and memories that don't.

Of course all of the memories aren't the best for any of us because being a teenager is hard. But the memories that meant something to me this weekend were all the ones filled with being deeply, truly known and with a whole heckuva a lot of laughter. We laughed an awful lot during those days of football games and parades and trying to figure out who we would become.

At this 30 year Reunion there wasn't a lot of "What do you do for living?" or "Are you married?" or "How many kids?"  We're kind of over that at this point. There was just a whole lot of laughing. Laughter that made tears roll down my face and my stomach hurt and my cheeks sore. And make no mistake that I AM HERE for laughter. And my friends delivered.

BIG

TEXAS-SIZED

LAUGHTER.

Cheers to you, Rockwall High School Class of '87. You are full of the memories that mean something. I am so grateful.

Do You Believe in Miracles? A Texas Triumph

I wasn't sure I was going to have time to blog this week because school's out for the day and I have 652 different things to do and I didn't imagine that the weekend would be very exciting so I didn't think I'd have much to report, but then . . .

TEXAS LONGHORNS.

Oh, y'all.  OH.Y'ALL.

I know we all expect Christmas Day Miracles and Easter Sunday Miracles, but if you didn't believe before, you know now that there was flat-out, bonafide COLUMBUS DAY WEEKEND MIRACLE that happened in Dallas, Texas on Saturday when my beleaguered (read:  really, really bad) Texas Longhorns beat the #10 ranked Oklahoma Sooners in the Red River Shootout by a score of 24-17.  And we were ahead for the entire stinkin' game.

I'm here to tell you that it did not make a LICK OF SENSE.

Now, perhaps there are those of you who had no idea that such a miracle occurred because maybe your weekend happiness doesn't revolve around 20 year olds throwing around a ball.  If that is true, then two things:

1.  That must be so relaxing.

and

2.  "There are people who believe that college football is just a game and to those people I say . . .well, I don't say much because we don't have anything in common." - Melanie Shankle (she is definitely "my people" - even though she's an Aggie.  God bless her.)

You know they should put that on a tshirt.  Guess what?  They did!

Listen.  If you don't know already (and if you don't, you likely already clicked away) my team has had its worse start in 50-something years and the Texas/OU rivalry is one of the biggest rivalries in the history of college football.  As far back as I can remember, when growing up in Dallas, Texas/OU weekend's importance was right behind Thanksgiving and Christmas as an event worthy of gathering your people together and eating and drinking until you were ready to pop.  My parents' fraternity and sorority friends, as well as grandparents, aunts and uncles would come together before and after the game and it was PARTY TIME.  The State Fair of Texas happens just outside the gates of the Cotton Bowl where the game is played.  My daddy would spend all kinds of money after the game at the Baseball Throw booth.  He didn't stop hurtling balls at milk bottles (that seemed to be made out of concrete) until his arm was ready to fall off and we were walking out of there with stuffed animals bigger than our own selves.

But this season, I will admit that I was quite morose when I woke up on Saturday.  My mom and dad were going to the game with my uncles.  All four of them Texas alumni - likely, all four of them just praying there wouldn't be humiliation and that their seats would be surrounded by like minded Longhorns or at least less than obnoxious Sooner fans. (as if there are any.  Oh, I kid)  Mom sent me this photo of her Texas/OU "dates".  And I just about burst into tears.  WILL YOU PLEASE JUST LOOK AT MY DAD AND MY UNCLES REPRESENTIN'? I tell you what, I think my people were ready to take the field.  Oh, my heart.

Well, I have never wanted to be at home so much in all my life because, I always have a flicker of hope, but honestly, I wanted to be of comfort to my people when we lost.  You know, misery loves company and all.   Alas, Joe and I were on our way to a baseball tournament in Hershey, PA and we had to listen to it on the radio.  When we scored first, I looked at Joe like this.

As we got closer to the baseball park and I was supposed to be paying attention to Siri telling me directions, the Horns were up 14-0 and I was pretty much like this:

I am going to be honest and tell you that my 17 year old who has had his driver's license for less than 9 months said, "MOM. BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL!" at least three times on our journey.

Well, because I am not a good parent, I missed the first few innings of Joe's game to sit in my car and listen to the rest of the game.  I alternated banging my hands on my steering wheel and on the roof of my car, blew up my Facebook status with my lonely euphoria, screamed and kicked and generally scared the fire out of families passing through the parking lot.  I was so shocked and so utterly full of glee that I'm fairly certain I looked like this the rest of the day.

This was rather awkward because by the time I set myself up to watch Joe's game, his team was losing by a gazillion runs and yet I literally could not wipe the smile off of my face.  It's true.  I am not a good parent.  I think the other parents thought I was completely coconuts.

Then Mom sent me this.  My people - all of those beautiful, burnt orange, shocked-out-of-their-minds people - singing "The Eyes Of Texas" after the game:



It's insane how much joy this win brought me.  It makes absolutely no sense at all, but it did. And you know what?  In this world of pain and struggle and records of 1 and 4?  I think the good Lord wants us to seize some joy when we can and glory in it.  And I sure did this weekend, friends.  I sure did.

To Coach Strong and the boys, I have to say, "Thanks for the joy, guys."

All the live long day, Horns.  Hook Em.

College Football Hopes Dashed Already? A Game Plan for Week Two

Listen, y'all.  Things are tragically difficult in the world right now.  There are some horrible things happening out there.  And my brain can only wrap itself around one thing at a time. Since Saturday night - oh, say, around 11:00 pm Eastern Standard Time - there has been one tragic event that has been specifically burdening my heart.

Yes. I am talking about Texas Longhorn Football.

Perhaps you, too, are sitting in a pit of despair after your hopes of college football glory took a punch to the gut in the first week of the season?

Or perhaps you are someone who realizes that football is just a game and that you are a spouse and a parent and a citizen in a country that needs you to focus on other things, so you shake these games off and don't think about your team until the next week?

(Oh.  That's an option?) 

It's taken me a few days to process what happened on Saturday in South Bend, Indiana when my Horns lost by a score of 38-3 in a debacle that really seemed more like 3,800 - 3.  For those of you who aren't quite as obsessed with your college football team as I am, you will have a hard time understanding this, but there is a part of me that thinks I could have done more.  Yes, I could have done more.

I know there are sports journalists, commentators and alumni all over the country analyzing what went wrong with the quarterback decisions or the play calls or the (lack of) defense or what have you.  But, here's the thing I had to remind myself:  In a world full of pain and suffering, I can only control what I can control.  And I best get to it and quick. 

I couldn't get in the locker room with Charlie Strong and the boys and tell them which plays to run or how to read the Notre Dame offense more effectively. When I screamed at the top of my lungs from the family room of my Virginia home, "WHO, IN THE NAME OF VINCE YOUNG, WERE YOU THROWING THAT BALL TO, SON???" or "THIS IS TACKLE FOOTBALL, BOYS.  TACKLE.FOOTBALL." Well, that clearly got us no where.

When I woke up Sunday morning, I had only two choices. 

1.  I could helplessly look at the rest of a very long season ahead of me that appears to be a dark tunnel of emotional distress.

or

2.  I could pull myself up by my (cowboy) boot straps and take a good, long look in the mirror and see what responsibility I might have had in the defeat.

After much reflection, I have decided I made some critical errors on Saturday.  And I think it is always important when one is feeling helpless to make a plan.  Therefore, I have devised a strategy for Week 2 of the 2015 College Football season which I will share with you, fellow whackjob fans out there.  Although, for obvious reasons, we will use the Texas Longhorns as our example, this plan can be applied to all schools and therefore, by all whackjobs.

I'm looking at you Nittany Lions, Cornhuskers and Hokies.

(Please keep your seats, Buckeyes, Aggies and Rebels because you never know, friends.  You just don't.)

This is a plan which involves three basic categories that I think are firmly in my wheelhouse:  Clothing, Food and Jesus.

CLOTHING:
First, let's talk about Game Day Attire.  Now whether you are watching at home or sitting in the stands, you have a responsibility, Fans.  This was me before the game started.  I had crazy hope in my eyes and faith in my burnt orange heart.  I had pulled out a t-shirt specifically for this day.

The problem here is that although my Texas "home" shirt is adorable and obviously makes me very happy, it's too generic for Game Day. For the love of Mack Brown, what was I thinking?  I needed some burnt orange on my person.  Some where.  Any where.  This was a complete lack of foresight on my part.  Put on the colors of your people no matter where you are watching the game. 

Here's an example of just a regular ol' Texas t-shirt, a la our MVP Longhorn Fan, Matthew McConaughey.  Easy peasy and perfectly acceptable.  I really kind of hate beer so at this point, that is optional.  But I'm open to a t-shirt/Miller Lite combo if we need to add that component later in the season.

Now if you are physically at the game, you have a heightened responsibility in your attire.  You must be mindful - especially you, ladies, who I know might want to be more fashion forward than a t-shirt.  That's fine.  Here are some options.

This from Nordstrom is really cute.  I, first saw it on BigMama's Fashion Friday blog.  She's an Aggie and is likely quite ecstatic this week.  I try hard not to like her, but I can't help it.  This happens with lots of Aggies in my life.  They can be downright delightful and it's confusing.

 This cute burnt orange top from LonghornFashions.com is perfectly acceptable.

On the other hand, here are some missteps in Game Day Fashion.  Please, be aware.

Darlin', listen.  I know you love our Longhorns and you must be from Texas because traditionally our people are fans of sequins.  But first of all, stop with the sequins.  You just can't.  Secondly, when that sun hits that dress it is going to cause a burst of light the likes of which will very likely cause our wide receivers to have some mild to moderate seizure activity.  Please, be responsible.  No sequins of any sort or kind, 'kay?

Another no:

Girls, I know you are excited when you find a top/shorts combo in your school colors.  But we need to use some common sense.  I don't need my quarterback looking up in the stands and wondering why you are dressed like Ellie Mae from the Beverly Hillbillies and your shorts are on backwards. If he contemplates your outfit too long he is going get himself sacked.  Please be a blessing, not a burden.

FOOD:
On Saturday, I went to the grocery store and got some game day food for my two big boys and me.  (Biggest boy and littlest one were away at a baseball tournament)   To properly support our team from our family rooms, we must treat game time as a celebration of our schools by providing the appetizers of our people.  I made a critical error here.  I must explain that this summer I consumed my weight and possibly all three of my children's weights in junk food and carbohydrates.  Last week, I finally got back on the wagon and was doing well with spinach, fish, chicken, asparagus and whatnot.  I wanted Game Day food, but I wanted to be sure I didn't partake too much.  Therefore, I bought this:

Oh, the shame and regret.  No offense to the Tostitos people because my boys will empty a jar of this in minutes, but this stuff tastes like plastic, y'all.  I should have made the real deal.  For you, maybe it's jambalaya or cheesesteaks or barbecue, but for me it's queso - made with organic Velveeta, Rotel and jalapenos.  I'm heartily sorry for these my misdoings.  Next week, in honor of  El Arroyo's Best Queso in all the land (West 5th Street, Austin, Texas.  You're welcome) I will not scrimp on providing the food of my people for my people by buying a cheap imitation in a jar.  I'm sorry, 'Horns. It won't happen again.

JESUS:
I realized as we watched the Notre Dame game that those Fighting Irish have Jesus on their side.  Literally, in the end zone.  Look:

I think our players might have forgotten the most critical fact of their lives last week.  It's something we all struggle with at times.

Did you just forget, Longhorns?  Jesus is in your end zone, too.  No matter where you're playing, Jesus is in ALL THE END ZONES IN ALL THE WORLD.  He loves you just as much as the other guy.

Hey, Jonathan Gray, RUN TO JESUS, SON.

He's there. He's waiting.  He loves all the football players  and non-football players and all the football fans and non-football fans  in all the land! People, JESUS IS ALWAYS IN YOUR END ZONE.  Win or lose, you have to play like you know that in the deepest part of your heart.  Don't forget that this week.

Ok, we have a few days left until Game Two, so let's just review.

1.  Be mindful of your game day attire.  At home, wear the colors of your people.  At the game, be responsible, ladies.  The boys need to focus.
2.  Prepare the food of your people.  Don't mess around with imitations.  If you need some jalapeno peppers and a block of cheese product, by God, buy some and then run a few extra miles the next day.  Diet, be gone.
3.  Jesus is in EVERYONE's end zone.  You just gotta get to Him.

And PS. I miss you so much, Colt McCoy. Just so darn much.

We have a plan now, so carry on, Fans.  Hook Em Horns.    Amen and Hallelujah.

A Couple Things (or 5) You Likely Don't Need to Know About Today

Hi, Friends,

Yesterday was something like the 10th or 78th day that school has been cancelled and today the weather gal with the inappropriately tight sweater is saying sleet will be arriving around 4:00 pm.  I am possibly going to need to be institutionalized.  Which leads me to my new favorite thing I've seen on The Twitter, et al.  This is for you, Weather gal or woman or person or whatever you like to be called.

It is likely a really bad idea to start writing right now, but my kids are at school today and there are some very important and inspirational things on my mind that I'm quite sure you are going to want to read and then print and save for reference at some future point in your life when maybe you're feeling stuck and needing some direction.  Or you might want to just click away now. 

1.  As a Texan, I must mention that yesterday was Texas Independence Day, which we Texans think is the most important day ever.  Because anything that involves Texas is, of course, more important than anything else that might be happening anywhere else in the whole darn world, 'kay? We have Texas sized egos and we assume everyone wants to be a Texan,  If you don't share this sentiment, we'll just let you in on our favorite saying from Davy Crockett.

Aren't we sweet?  Texas Forever, y'all.



2.  If you didn't celebrate Texas, well, I'm sure you took a moment to celebrate Jon Bon Jovi's birthday which was also yesterday. You didn't?  Then please take a moment to re-evaluate your life.  This morning I'm feeling a little bit like I cheated on Jon because last night Nancy and her Real Daughters and I went to see Maroon 5 at the Verizon Center and I was a little bit squeal-y and might have conducted myself like an infatuated teenager.  (1/10th of the behavior I display at BonJovi by the way.)  You might recall, if you've been here for awhile, my writing about the last time I saw Bon Jovi at the Verizon Center . It was on my "Best Day of My Entire Life" list along with the four other times I've seen Bon Jovi when I screamed and cried and almost peed in my pants.  Oh, and along with when Texas beat USC in the National Championship on January 4, 2005 when I screamed and cried and almost peed in my pants.  And ok, yes, my wedding day, kids' births, blah, blah, blah.  It's possible there was screaming, crying and almost peeing in my pants those days, too. Whatever.  Happy Day to you, JBJ.

3.  It is highly likely that my kids are getting really dumb due to all the school cancellations, but I'll have you know that if we could find a TV/Movie Trivia competition to enter, it will be JACKPOT CITY in Skinner World.  Joe has not completed reading Orwell's 1984, but has finished all seasons of The Office.  Kyle and I watched a bit of Walker, Texas Ranger and then he watched a Jaws Marathon Sunday and Monday.  I joined in for the end of Jaws 3.  Dennis Quaid is in Jaws 3, as are Lea Thompson and Louis Gossett, Jr.  You're welcome to keep that information in your back pocket the next time you play Trivia Crack. 

This is the end shot of Jaws 3.  Sandy and Cindy are like two Vegas Show Girl Dolphins at Sea World.  We are certain that Jaws has eaten Sandy for an afternoon snack.  (or maybe it was Cindy.  I'm sure they have unique personalities, but darn it, are they hard to tell apart.) At the end Dennis Quaid and Bess Armstrong are frantically searching for Sandy when lo and behold Sandy leaps up out of the water nailing a perfect full 360 twist. All is well, as Sandy and Cindy are back together while the sun is setting over Sea World.  Bess Armstrong raises her hands in victory blocking Dennis Quaid's face from the view of future movie directors which is likely why he went on to have a successful career. At this point Kyle and I burst out laughing because it is the dumbest thing we've ever seen and that's saying a lot because we've been watching some pretty dumb stuff lately.

I think it's pretty safe to assume that Spielberg was NOT involved in the making of Jaws 3.

3.  This is what I have to say about Adam Levine:  "Dear God, That was a mighty work you did on that one."  Of course with the face and the talent and whatnot.  But did y'all see this?  This little boy who has Down Syndrome loves Maroon 5 and he was able to go to the concert last night and meet the band.  Apparently, he got really nervous and had to lay down, so Adam and the whole band said, "No problem, we'll just get down on the floor with him."  Can you stand it??  God makes good people.  Good regular people and good crazy-talented-beautiful-rock star people.

4.  Speaking of good people, Kyle's Kamp's 4th Casino Night was a huge success.  We raised a lot of money for pediatric cancer.  But, one of my favorite things about the night was seeing so many people just having a plain ol' good time.  Kyle's Kamp deals with some serious, tragic horrible things.  And I think God absolutely wants us to be aware and to walk into His hurting and broken world to be His hands and feet.  And the people that attended the event did exactly that.  They were generous and selfless and committed to the cause.  At the same time, I know that God wants us to find joy and to celebrate.  The Gospel of John reminds us of His want for us to have a life abundant:

"So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy." John 16;22

"I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." John 10:10b

The best part of Saturday night was seeing my friends who are grieving surrounded by love, support and laughter.  (and also, cupcakes.)  I also was so grateful to so many members of our baseball community and my family who cleaned up, dressed up and showed up.  Often times, our communication involves who is dropping off and who is picking up.  We wave and honk and smile at each other from windows as boys pile bat bags in our cars and we race off to make it to practice on time.  It was such fun to spend time with my fun, generous, joyful friends.  My people showed up for a very important cause because their hearts are so big and because of that, my heart is so full.

5.  I am going to list a fifth item because ending a list with four things just seems wrong.  So, you should know that I will have dinner ready for my family at 6:00 pm on the dot tonight because I am somethin' else and even though I got to bed at 1:00 am last night, I have already put country style pork ribs in the crock pot.  I just felt like I should tell you that, fine reader.  What do you think I do all day - just watch tv and write about Adam Levine and how handsome and talented he is and how I sang my lungs out to Sunday Morning and could have blown out a knee when dancing to Sugar alongside a couple of 15 year olds?  Well, I don't do that all day long.  I mean I have a house to run and a family to feed and children to raise into fine young men. I am a grown up married woman, for goodness sake.   

But look at him, y'all.

I would recommend a Maroon 5 concert.  Your husband will even have fun.  Mine didn't go.  When I told him that Adam Levine put on a great show.  He said, "Adam who?  Does he play any sports?"  I'm not sure if he was kidding.

Y'all have a good day.  I gotta family to raise and a mix tape to make for my husband.  Find joy, friends!.

The House that Built Me

Last night my dad sent me this photo in a text - no words.

It appears to be a construction area of a house being torn down possibly for renovation.  This is happening all over older Dallas neighborhoods.  It might seem an odd text to receive with no words, but it didn't need any words or any explanation.  I knew exactly why my dad sent this photo and I knew exactly what it was when I saw that white brick wall.

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes filled with tears.  It was on that brick wall that I watched my daddy put up a sign with a jumble of numbers and letters that I couldn't yet decipher because I was only three years old at the time.  He took it upon himself to read it for me and told me that the sign said, "The strongest man in the world lives here".  And I believed him.  And I knew that I would be safe and sound in that house with my strong daddy.  I lived in that house in Dallas from the time I was three until I was nine.  Really not that long.  A mere fraction of the whole of my life.  So, I couldn't figure out why it made me so sad.  And just because I'm a real sappy mush of a gal, I punched up THIS SONG on my Iphone.  And I cried some more.  (Seriously - what is it with me and the songs and the sap and tears?  Gah!)

There is a saying that we really don't know what goes on behind the walls of even the most perfect looking homes with fresh paint and manicured lawns.  That every family has its secrets.  Our family was not perfect, but the only secrets I remember being in that house were the whispers of two little sisters giggling into the night on side by side twin beds.  Or the whispers of a big brother - so much braver than his wimpy sisters - peeking around the stairwell to see what Santa Claus had left us.

The ages of three to nine should be carefree and easy and mine were.  This is the time before I worried about what size jeans I wore or if that boy I had a crush on liked me.  I didn't know anyone who had gotten divorced or anyone who had died of cancer.  My family protected me inside that house.  Many years have passed and though I have found that the world is not always carefree and easy, our family's foundation is still strong. Even though we live under different roofs in different states and rely on smart phones and computers and all manner of things we could have never comprehended in 1975 to stay connected, we are connected.  The house that built me was full of love, forgiveness and loyalty and the family that built me still is.

And because it's Throwback Thursday and Facebook erupts with photos of plaid polyester pants, blue eyeshadow and Farrah wings, I started to think about what else I remember about that house that built me.

It was from that brick wall that I stepped up high to try to climb a tree and came crashing down to bump my head.  As a reward for that little maneuver I earned three stitches and a pass to eat ice cream on the couch and watch the Miss America pageant that night.

It was on the front lawn of that house that my mom cried and cried on the hot summer August day when Elvis died.  She said the only way she could explain how awful it was to me was to say that it was for her like it would be if Donny Osmond died for me.

Oh, the horror.  She didn't have to speak another word.  This was clearly  devastating.

It was in that house that I colored states red or blue on the electoral map in my Scholastic News that I brought home from 2nd grade during the 1976 Presidential election.  I was stunned to realize that even though my parents voted for President Ford, he would not be elected.  I suppose that's when I knew that maybe things don't always work out like you think they should.

It was on a lawn chair in the front yard that I sat on my grandfather's lap being comforted after I'd been stung by a bee.  He had brought a giant stuffed animal to me from the Texas/OU Game at the State Fair of Texas.  I don't remember how much that bee sting hurt.  I do remember that stuffed animal and the gentleness of that man.  He died later that month.

It was in that house on the blue velvety sofa that my mom led me to sit down when I asked her what all this "period" stuff in my book, Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret?, was about.  I knew it was big when we sat in the formal living room.  She told me everything.  I was a little horrified.

It was in that house that my sister and I watched Mr. Rogers and Zoom on the enormous TV console with an attached record player.  It was in that same room where we turned cartwheels on the shag carpet as we watched Nadia Comaneci from a country far away win the gold medal in the Summer Olympics.

It was in the backyard of that house where a  big brother convinced his sister to pool all their Halloween candy together and put it up in the tree house to share.  It was on that tree that he showed her how to climb so that she felt special and important.

It was in that house that I remember catching a glimpse of my dad as he stood with his coffee cup at the living room window staring out at the trees, a tear rolling down his cheek.  His grandmother had died that morning.  And I knew that even the strongest man in the world could and should be able to cry.

The house was idyllic, white clapboard with black shutters and a backyard sandbox surrounding a huge tree.  There was a pool and a diving board.  There was a swing set and a dog and a two car garage.  It was utterly perfect.

But the thing I know in my heart this morning is that it wasn't the house that built me . . . not any of the four houses in which I lived before I left Texas really built me.  It wasn't the gleaming white brick wall, the twin bed covered in a sunny yellow comforter, the deep blue pool or the monkey grass that lined the walk that built me.  It was the people in the family to whom God gave me that built me.

It was a mom who put my hair in pin curls the night before my very first ballet recital.  It was a dad who told a little white lie to make sure his daughter felt like there was no one in all the world who could hurt her.  It was a brother who peered out the bathroom window late on Christmas Eve promising that the blinking red light we saw in the distance was Rudolph, even when he knew full well it was an airplane.  It was a little sister who shared not just Barbie dolls and coloring books and record players, but secrets and dreams and her heart.

So thanks for the memories you held for us little house.  My people and I grew strong among your walls and trees and green grass. We loved our years with you.   Good-bye, 6315 Glendora Avenue.  You were good to us.

A Special Addendum for my real Aunt "Edna"

Ok, I don't really have an Aunt Edna or an Uncle Albert.  What I do have is an Aunt Marilyn and an Uncle Tom.  And they are two of the greatest, most generous, most loving and most joyful people you would ever want to be around.  And their children, my cousins, and their grandchildren and their children's significant others also happen to be some of my favorite people in all the world as well.  I have even found that the newest significant other, even after I had known her for exactly five minutes, was certain to become another of MY people, so precious was she.

Also, one does not want to cross Aunt Edna.  Especially me.

I mentioned our Vegas for Kids extravaganza yesterday with one side of my family which includes cousins and uncles and all manner of wonderful people.  And one would think that a slide show of our Texas Thanksgiving Extravaganza would include mention and photos of the time we spent during the week with Aunt Edna/Marilyn and Uncle Albert/Tom - again, two of the greatest, most generous and most joyful people you would ever be around.  But here's the problem:

Uncle Albert/Tom served up the best margarita that his niece has ever had in her entire 44 years when we met for cocktails at Edna/Marilyn and Albert/Tom's lovely home after our tour of the Bush Library.  A margarita which caused said niece to very easily remember to take a to go cup in the car as we rushed down the road to Dallas Country Club so that all twenty four of us could gather around and bask in the glow of our wonderfulness.  A margarita which also caused said niece to forget to bring her phone so that she could capture pictures of the wonderfulness.

The kids had a blast playing basketball and jumping in bounce houses and drinking all manner of caffeinated beverages.  The adults had a blast catching up, laughing until our sides ached, sitting around a huge table full of food and wine and a large Diet Coke for she who had to stop at only one of the best margaritas in all the world.

At one point, my mom looked out at all of the love and looked at me and said, "To think that of all of this . . . this huge family.  At one time, out of all these people here, it was just your Uncle Tom and me.  And now, look at all of this."

And I did. I looked out at all of this.  I took a moment to look at my cousins and their people.  I looked at my sister and her husband who makes me laugh until I cry.  I looked at my uncle, who besides making the best margarita ever, tells the best joke you've ever heard which is about a string.  Yes, it's about a string and I laugh every.single.time.  I looked at my mom and my aunt whose heads were pressed together like they always are because they have been two peas in a pod for as long as I can remember.  I looked at my cousin's wife, Laura, who I think I could sit and chat with for an entire week.  Drew thinks so, too, because in the car on the way home he said, "Mom, what is the blond girl's name again? The one who sat next to Pop and was so nice when I hurt my hand? (big sigh) I.LOVE.HER."  I looked at all the precious little boys and girls snatching cookies from the buffet table.  I took a moment to marvel at all of this.   

(Big Sigh).  I.LOVE.THIS.  Oh, yes, I surely do.

See you soon, Aunt Edna and Uncle Albert.  Get those limes ready and that salt and that Jose Cuervo.  We'll be back soon.

Photo Credit Below:  A photo taken of beautiful Highland Park Village by Sister who did not have a to-go-world -class-margarita in her hand as we drove to meet the family and therefore was able to capture the only photo of the evening.  Her loss, I'd say.

Everything is Bigger in Texas: Especially Love

Good Morning, People. 

This is when my blog falls into the category of "Jenn's Attempt at a Family Scrapbook" since stickers and scissors and funky glue dispensers and other such items found at your local craft store send me running for a prescription for anti-anxiety meds.  So for you, dear reader, if you are not a member of my family, it will likely prove to be incredibly boring.  Now, if you are one of my Dallas area readers, I understand that this is going on today:

Frankly, you people aren't going anywhere, so I think Aunt Edna is going to be really hurt if you don't sit down with your diet Coke and your chips and salsa and humor her.  She takes terribly fuzzy pictures of random places and sometimes Uncle Albert's or Cousin Fred's heads are cut off in the photos, but she can't see you roll your eyes, so this will all work out just fine.

First of all, let me say, that when I looked at the weather for my trip home there was much wailing and tearing of robes because HIGH OF 34 on my first day there.  WHAT THE @#$%?  I think this is the first time I have had to pack a coat for my trip home which really sent me into a state because I had to bring three different ones.  A girl never knows what outfit she will be wearing when she feels a chill.  Also, just so you know, I packed 3 pairs of boots, 3 pairs of flats and 1 pair of running shoes.  Thank God Fake Daughter was to be left at home.  I had no room for her wardrobe.

Here are some of the Highlights of our Thanksgiving Week.

Whataburger
This was one of our first stops because we are high-flalootin' and fancy like that.  The guys were supposed to play golf, but since it was freezing and messy, who needs a stuffy golf club when you can have a #1 with cheese and a giant Coke?   Kyle was bursting with joy as we walked in and he pointed out exactly where he and Pop sat last time and sighed, "That was the best day EVER."  My sweet middle man is a Texan at his core and is certain that there are orange and white striped fast food restaurants lining the golden streets of heaven where angels, who do not use the word soda, will ask him, "What kind of Coke do you want, sweetie? "  To which he will answer, "I'll take a Sprite, please. Thank you, Gracious Jesus and please don't tell my mom about the gallon of Sprite."

Bass Pro Shop
Now, I understand that Bass Pro Shops are not exclusive to Texas, but let me tell you what likely is only going to happen at a Texas BPS.  As we walked in I heard a mom, much like many of us who get frazzled in a giant store with a bunch of toddling boys, yell out, "Wrangler, where are you?  Get over here right now, Wrangler!  Stay with me, son."  Yes, sirree, that is a true story, y'all.

 

 

Vegas for Kids
Now my people do love to get all fancy during the holidays here and there.  We dress up and eat fine food and go shopping at all the high class Dallas stores and all, but we also love ourselves a bowling alley.  We (except for Sister) are not very good, as this is a once a year affair.  So one night we met my uncle, cousins and their hubbies and kids at this place called, Shenanigans, which my dad refers to as Vegas for Kids and which my husband refers to as, No, son, THERE IS SIMPLY NO MORE MONEY LEFT TO SPEND.  In addition to bowling lanes, this place has go carts, arcade games, laser tag, mini golf and oh yes, of course, a mechanical bull ride.  Sister may have won the bowling competition, but Kyle won the bull ride competition which was curious because he has never even seen Urban Cowboy and that is a downright tragedy, I'd say.

The George W. Bush Presidential Library
If you don't know yet, I am a Texan, a baseball fan, a Republican, a person of faith and a lover of history who appreciates a sense of humor and am also quite the big ol' red, white and blue bleeding fan of my country.  So, actually George W. Bush and I have lots in common and I gladly voted for the man twice and I even more gladly spent over two hours in his beautiful library on the campus of Southern Methodist University.  The library is stunning and I highly recommend a visit whether you share my political views or not.  The 9/11 exhibit, as my husband said, should be visited by every single presidential candidate and I would also say every single American.  It had me in the ugly cry, but it was very well done.  As soon as I got myself together there was a video of the President discussing his love of Texas and I cried again. I could go back and will go back countless times.  You will notice that the Skinner family went full-on Griswold with this photo of us in the "Oval Office".  You will also notice that even when pretending we're in the White House, my children still throw their coats on the floor.  Dear Lord, help us.

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving Day at Stubbs BBQ and DKR Memorial Stadium
I know the Pilgrims enjoyed their feast back in the day, but I'm quite sure that if they had the choice they would have had BBQ at Stubb's in Austin, taken themselves to 16th and Congress for a tailgate party and then gone on to watch the Horns beat the heck outta Texas Tech.  I will say that Tech's  Ryan Goslingesque coach scared me a bit when the Red Raiders faked a punt on the first possession and went up 7-0 causing me to have to take some deep, cleansing breaths.  But then all worked out fine because I was able to sit 7 rows up from Coach Handsome and see his dreamy, yet quite frustrated face up close as my team took care of business.

(Note:  I did not partake.  Thank goodness)

 



 

 

The Hyatt Lost Pines in Bastrop, Texas
Whataburger might be heaven for Kyle, but this resort is heaven for me.  We have stayed here on and off for the past five or so Thanksgivings and it is a wonderful place to visit.  We are only 15-20 minutes from the greatest city on earth, Austin, Texas, but we always find it hard to leave this property.  The décor is purely Texan and gorgeous.  The weather blessedly turned warm when we arrived there in the middle of the week.  There were a gazillion activities for the kids, golf, a giant (HEATED!) pool with a lazy river and a slide, walking trails, horseback riding, skeet shooting and much to the cousins' delight,  s'mores by the fire every night with a real, live singing cowboy belting out "The Eyes of Texas are Upon You."

 

 

(Note:  We are not sure if Drew is ready for playing touch football or for robbing a bank)



 

 

(Note:  This is what happens when somebody throws the football up on someone else's balcony)
 

 

My People, My Blessings, My Loves

The best part of my week was being with my people.  All of them:  my children, my parents, sister, brother, brother-in-law, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and oh, that, love o' my life, hubby of mine.  I don't care if we are in a museum, at a country club, by the pool or at a bowling alley.  I would sit in a pile of mud with you, people.  I love you to pieces and am overwhelmed by the grace God has shown me.  No single photo, no written words, no uttered prayers could ever capture the enormity of my gratitude for you y'all.

 

 

 (Note:  Are they Barbie and Ken or what?)

 

 

 

 

 

(Note:  Mom, stop crying.  We'll all be back soon,)

(Note:  To you who lasted through the end.  Aunt Edna says you're dismissed.)