July 30, 2009

Headin’ For The Hills

Well, we made it through the birthday party, and it was so much fun, I could do it all over again this weekend. T-Bone transformed the backyard into a magical fairyland, and Karla May gifted us with some delicious food and her unique vocal stylings. You had to be there. We had a nice mix of old friends, neighbors, and new friends from T-Bone’s work, all of whom enjoyed a break from parenting for the evening. It all just felt so grown-up, but in a good way. Let’s do it again real soon, shall we?

This week has flown by, and now we’re blowing this popsicle stand for the Hill Country tomorrow. We’re going to Fredericksburg, by way of Dallas (yes, that Dallas – long story), to meet up with a smattering of the Turista Contingent for the weekend. Then next week, I’m taking a couple of days off to just hang out with Peach and Olive. No real plans as of yet, which is awesome. They’re both so excited about school starting, but we’ve still got a whole month to go, so I’ve got to keep this party going a while longer.

In other news, it’s HOT. The End.

July 23, 2009

She’s 41 And Her Daddy Still Calls Her Baby*

He really does, all the time. So I love that song.

After not really wanting to celebrate the Big 4-0 last year, I’m over it and gearing up for a fun-filled weekend. First off, yesterday, the ladies at The Job made me a cake and got me the BIGgest birthday balloon you’ve ever seen. Like, weather balloon size. It requires two of those balloon weight thingies to hold it down. That big. I left work early to get my hairs did, and then we had an early celebratory dinner with my MIL. And it was Mama and Papa Turista’s 46th anniversary, so here’s to them as well.

Today, I’m gettin’ this birthday party started by refinancing our house! Whooo! Do I know how to throw down or what? Afterwards, Peach and Olive and I are going to hit the mall for a bit, where I’m thinking a Double Doozie cookie with icing may be in order. Later, we’re meeting T-Bone for dinner at, wait for it, Chuy’s, and then we’re off to see Harry Potter at the Drafthouse, with Butterbeer and the Hogwarts Express Candy Cart. Peach and Olive planned the whole evening themselves, and I think it’s perfect. I heart them so. And Dumbledore.

Fast forward to Saturday, and we’re having a real live grown-up party at the house. We haven’t had such a soiree since I was pregnant with Peach, so 10 years later, I thought we were due. All your favorites will be here – Karla May and BH, the Bookharts, the Televisions, and new homeowner, and now my neighbor, Miss Jaye. Las ninas will be spending the night with my in-laws, and while they’re looking forward to playing with their sista-cuzzins, they do love a party and want me to take note of all the goings-on. And because we’ve spent a lot of time preparing, when the (figurative) smoke finally clears on Sunday, I imagine I’ll be pretty spent, fat, and happy.

Hmm. Spent, fat, and happy. Words to live by, my friends.

* Delta Dawn. Obviously.

July 20, 2009

I Want Your Text. Not.

While not exactly a Luddite, I am very technologically-challenged. Mostly by choice. Or out of laziness, whichever. Short of Internet surfing, emailing, and work stuff, the most “high-tech” thing I can do is send an evite. I know. I don’t have a smart phone. I don’t do Twitter or any social networking. And I don’t text. Call me crazy, but if I want to TALK to someone, I, um, CALL them on the PHONE. And really, just when did everybody get so GD important is what I want to know.

Again, it’s not that I’m against technology per se, and I can see the value in some of those things, but it’s all just so time-consuming. And the minute you learn one thing, they “improve” it, and you’ve got to buy/learn a whole new thing. I can barely work our DVR, and I’m still fascinated by Call Notes, so honestly, I think my plate is full.

Por ejemplo, Saturday, T-Bone went to Big D for his aunt’s funeral (the third person we’ve lost to cancer in as many months – however, Aunt J had been kicking lymphoma’s ass for 10 years. 10!). He left his phone behind, and while I was making breakfast for las ninas, it buzzed or chirped or whatever, and I saw that he had a text message from Rudy From Work. I haven’t met Rudy From Work yet, but I’ve heard a lot about him, and apparently, he loves T-Bone and considers him his Work Dad. Ouch. Anyway, the message was asking about an event they had on Friday that Rudy From Work missed. I thought, I don’t want him to think T-Bone is ignoring his message, surely I can figure out how to respond. Yeah. No.

First of all, it was not my phone, so I could hardly open or activate it, let alone find any kind of menu button. Next, it doesn’t have a keyboard that shoots out anywhere, so I had to find everything on the number buttons. Finally, I had to compose and re-compose the message in my head several times because, sometimes, I tend to be a little long-winded. Ahem.

Anywho, here’s what happened:

RFW: How was the event yesterday?

LT: Okay, I’ll start with “Rudy.” Now where are the punctuation buttons? Should I put a dash or a period? Maybe an exclamation point? How do I capitalize? Wait, what’s this button? Shit! All I sent was “Rudy.”

RFW: Is that a question?

LT: Dangit! Okay, starting over. “Sorr…”

RFW: And yes, it’s Rudy.

RFW: I can’t believe I’m gone for a few days, and you’ve already forgotten who I am.

By that point, with all the rapid fire buzzing and chirping, I was so flustered and laughing so hard, I was a crying mess in a heap on the floor. With Peach and Olive standing over me, surely considering if they should implement their 911 phone training. A few seconds later, T-Bone’s phone rang – how novel is that?! – and yes, it was Rudy From Work calling. I had to pull myself together to answer, and I know I confused, and probably frightened, the hell out of him as I explained the situation. He laughed and was very sweet, but his first impression of Work Dad’s old lady is probably not the greatest, I’m thinking.

So there you have it, children. Tune in next time for “Reasons Why I Hate Facebook.”

July 16, 2009

Sweatin' To The Oldies

Here's how much I love my children. And musical theatre. We're heading off right now to see the OUTdoor production of The Music Man at the Zilker Hillside Theatre.

Current temp in the ATX: One-OMG-Two.

July 13, 2009

To The Victor

Goes the golden trophy. Actually, two golden trophies and two big ribbons. The horse show was a great success – albeit a four-hour test of will and personal constitution as we were sitting on backless bleacher seats in a sweltering roping arena for most of the day. It was covered, and there were fans, but still. Sweat dripping down into all my nooks and crannies. The time really went by pretty fast, considering, and Peach and Olive had a ball watching the other classes, especially the DRIVING classes, where they hook the little minis up to carts and grown people in costumes drive them around. It was awesome.

Olive took first and second place in her classes, and Peach took second in hers – which was really amazing since hers were open classes, meaning she was competing against adults with a lot more experience. The horse they showed was a total hambone, so he ended up taking Grand Champion in several classes, and they covered him with ribbons and kisses. I was so proud of them, and I swear Olive would have slept with her trophies if I let her. God help me, I even entered a raffle for a horse, which is about the only way we’ll ever become the proud owners of one. They come with live-in stablehands, right?

I was so glad Abuelita Turista could join us for the weekend, and we took our trophies and our tales over to my other grandmother, Sweet E, Saturday evening. That girl – 97 years old – and still sharp as all get out. As soon as she saw me, she said, “Well, how do you think Sotomayor’s going to do in the hearings?” Amazing. Honestly, how lucky am I that I have these two wonderful women in my life and that Peach and Olive get to know them and love them as much as I do. Methinks we’re all winners here.

July 9, 2009

Over. It.

Enough with the heat, already. I mean, 106? Really? 100 plus for several days – weeks, even – and rain is just a distant memory. So yeah, we get it. It’s HOT. Move on.

One of the worst by-products of all this heat, besides my absolutely pathetic yard, is my extremely PUNCHY mood. While Peach and Olive have been living it up with Mama T at Abuelita T’s the past week, T-Bone and I have been trying to tackle some things on the Never-Ending Home Improvement List, most of which are, of course, outside. So it’s been a real crapstorm of fun up in here, I have to say. We get one thing done, but then it only makes something else look like hell, so there’s hardly time to bask in our accomplishments before I’m raging about our corner-cutting builder and their all-star team of incompetents. Seriously – did you really think the grass would grow where you laid the sod on top of leftover concrete? Because it’s thriving so much more over there, on top of the broken glass and re-bar. And I really love, LOVE!, your keen ability to get overspray on every inch of trim and window on the house – such a joy to clean! All of this to say, I am out for BLOOD, y’all.

The good new is, Peach and Olive are coming home today, just in time to gear up for their Miniature Horse Show this weekend. Yes, MINIATURE. And honestly, I may just scrap any further plans for the backyard and turn that mutha into a pasture. With a tank I can fill with shaved-ice, 24/7. Ahhh.