March 27, 2009

Cluck Cluck Cluck

I'm off tomorrow to, if not the biggest, certainly the LOUDEST, Hen Party around. Picture this: me, Mama Turista, her two sisters, Abuelita Turista, my sistacousin, her SIL, and two of Mama's best girlfriends all locked up in a lil house in the country, a stone's throw away from the greatest antique/crapola shopping experience in the world - all talking at the same time. In action, the Turista contingent alone is quite something to behold, so God help the new girls and anyone else who can't keep up.

Why, yes, I'd love to find that perfect something for my front porch, some beautiful old table linens, or a cool piece of religious folk art to add to my stash, but I'm mostly going for the spectacle of it all. And if I walk back in here with one more dish or vintage Christmas decoration, T-Bone is (rightfully) going to send me AND it straight on to The Funny Farm, post haste. It's an illness, really.

See y'all on the other side ...

March 23, 2009

Shape Of Things To Come

T-Bone and I had a glimpse into our future last week as Peach and Olive spent their Spring Break with Mama Turista in San Antonio. They left last Saturday, with a trunkful of craft supplies, and I had to just about drag them back home with me Friday evening. In between, they enjoyed the aforementioned craft extravaganza, touring the Riverwalk, shopping for Westernwear (really, Olive came home with one of these outfits), and "training" for a Miniature Horse show they're going to participate in this summer. I met the little furballs on Friday, and I have to say, if a Barbie horse ever came to life, Miss GG would be it. She's a light Palomino, with blue eyes, about 30 inches tall, and I briefly pondered which corner of our tiny backyard would best suit her jewel-encrusted stable, just big enough for her and the tiny foal she's carrying in her tiny womb, who will surely be pink and able to fly ...

Wait, where was I? Oh yes, my future. Which doesn't involve horses, winged or otherwise (a girl can hope). No, the point is that T-Bone and I were "on our own" for six days, and as weird as it was to not hear Peach and Olive chattering in the backseat or see them rolling out of bed each morning with the most awesome bedheads in the history of the world, we did pretty well. Much better than I did that first night in New Orleans on our anniversary trip. THAT was pitiful.

We didn't do a whole lot, but it was nice. We rode to work together like a couple of old coots, me saying "Don't forget your lunch, Daddy!" as I dropped him off each morning. We used some coupons and gift certificates we had for restaurants las ninas would have no interest in. We worked in the yard and spent two hours wandering aimlessly around Home Depot. We talked about work and mortgages and my aching back. We laughed about work and retirment accounts and SXSW hipsters. And we went out on a school night for St. Patrick's Day, only to shuffle off to Buffalo after two beers. Between us.

Good gawd, we sound old already. I always thought that when we retired, we'd be the kind to pack up in a badass RV and tour the country, the world - join the Peace Corps even! And we may still do that. But I am happy to confirm that even if we spend our golden years never leaving the Happy Casa for Silver Foxes, we're going to have a good time, all the time.

I highly recommend this Snapshot of Senior Citizenry Staycation. Next time, we're getting matching shirts and Rascals.

March 5, 2009

I'm Not Even Going to Say It*

I'll just tell you what I saw when I popped into Walgreen's this afternoon:
  • A dude in the parking lot playing "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes" on his sax. Right up against the building actually, better acoustics ya know.

  • A truck advertising "The Paint Wizard: For your residential and commercial needs." I almost took down the number, in case I need some color magic in the near future, and then (I'm assuming) The Wizard him/her-self stepped out of the car, and I was frozen in awe. He/she must have been the long-lost brother/sister of Leslie because the resemblence, and fashion sense, was uncanny. UNcanny, I tell you.

  • And an entire section devoted to "Hispanic Products"(?) - including this:

I'm still smiling.

*It's already been said here, here, and here. Also here. And, most recently, here.

March 2, 2009

It's Gettin' HOT in Hee-yah

After being felled by a particularly nasty migraine on Tuesday, I was up most of Wednesday night with a restless, feverish Peach. Somehow, she awoke fresh as a daisy on Thursday, but about two hours later, I got The Call from school – Peach is clammy, shivering, and clearly "not herself." So I hot-footed it over to GGMS to pick her up, and she spent the rest of the day in bed.

Like Florence Nightingale herself, Mama Turista swooped in that evening to sit with Peach Friday and on through the weekend, as we had planned to go to Small Town, Texas to visit T-Bone’s folks. But just as we were packing up Friday afternoon, Peach rallied and decided she really wanted to go with. So I threw in some more clothes and we were off.

By the time we arrived Friday night, Peach was, literally, a Hot Mess. Her fever was back up, she was sneezing and wheezing, and she had a near-constant hacking cough. I was up all night, tending and consoling, and somewhere around 3 am, the fevah finally broke, and she drifted off into a sweaty slumber. She took it easy the rest of the weekend, and besides the much less constant hacking cough, she seems to be on the mend.

I, however, am a little hot under the collar, with nerves all a-jangling, because when we got home yesterday afternoon, our neighbor informed us that our smoke alarms had been going off earlier and he heard them when he was out walking his dog, so he called the fire department and they came and banged on the door and looked in all the windows, and because they didn’t see any smoke or anything, they left.

Ummm, the what now?

I absolutely could not fall asleep last night, what with all the wondering and conjecturing, and I have come to this conclusion: If, in fact, our house is not haunted, though I have long suspected it IS, I am convinced there is someone living in our attic and they set the smoke alarms off whilst cooking some food (scavenged from our pantry) on a hotplate behind the ductwork. I’m going up there when I get home today. I’ll let you know what (or WHO) I find.