swimming in the shallow end

First thing's first:

I challenge you to name ONE decorating scenario wherein this lamp might be considered aesthetically appealing. Maybe Rock Hudson's bachelor pad movie set from forty years ago?

Let me explain. My husband's company houses us in furnished apartments for our summer adventures and this little feng shui nightmare was on the living room end table when we got here. I have since demoted it to the master bedroom, where it spends its days wreaking havoc on my relationship with DJ. It's the pistols at dawn for this lamp.

This next one is for Maggie:

My toenails are fluorescent pink. I've always been self-conscious about my mutant toes, so displaying this picture on the World Wide Web for all to see represents a huge breakthrough for me. I think I'll reward myself with a tall glass of Fresca.

Next up:

The ferris wheel at the Texas state fairgrounds. I like it.

Next, the view from our patio:

They're building a train track. I'm still reading Atlas Shrugged (of course) so I have a little life-imitates-art situation going on every day. For those of you who haven't read the book, there's a lot of railroad-building hoopla in it. At least in the first 580 pages there is. I cannot vouch for the last 500 pages. I'll get back to you on that (in ten years, when I finish it).

Next:

I finally learned how to French braid. I know, I know. You're thinking, how does someone manage to be a female for thirty whole years without learning this skill? My answer: Easily. I tried once or twice before, got charlie horses in my fingers and gave up. Kind of like my crochet experience. I decided enough was enough and after a few hours of practice I've gotten to the point where Olivia doesn't hide behind the couch when she sees me with the brush. Next up, learn to play the guitar.

Finally, two of my favorite people in the WHOLE world:

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ROOT! Root, root for the hoooome teeeeam!

Last night my family, along with my sisters and their spouses, and my nephew Casey, and my husband's whole office and the entire population of northern Texas (apparently) attended the Texas Rangers baseball game against the New York Mets. Now I'm basically an expert on all things baseball. Or at least I'm an expert at attending professional baseball games.

Here are my expert tips:

1. If, on the way to the game you stop for gas and your husband buys Reese's peanut butter cups for you, resist the urge to save them for later in your purse. Consume said peanut butter cups IMMEDIATELY. Otherwise they will turn into Reeses slop in the suffocating heat, then you'll have to put them in the freezer when you get home and eat them with a fork and knife for lunch the next day.

2. Arrive at the ball park no later than two hours before the start of the game. If you arrive twenty minutes late (or even "on time") it will take precisely three innings to walk from your car to your assigned seats.

3. Once inside the ballpark remember that others may consider your son's clothing choice of bright orange and blue (the same color as the opposing team's getup) to be in poor taste. Simply walk around the stadium asking if anyone has "seen this poor little boy's parents."

4. The seventh inning stretch is for real. Take advantage.

5. When your team hits a home run, clap and cheer as though you were paying attention the whole time. As a rule, I clap when the crowd claps. I'm really fun at parties.

6. You will know when the game has concluded because there will be fireworks and everyone will stand up and leave. Those will be your only cues, since you will have only watched the game for a total of three minutes, preoccupied as you will be by your children's constant requests for cotton candy/Swedish fish/Angry Birds/water/"what that guy is selling" (beer)/popcorn and taking pictures.

7. This rule is critical: remember where you parked your car. Utilize whatever means necessary. Tie balloons to your car, rent a searchlight, or at the very least, drop a pin on your GPS. Otherwise you will spend an hour wandering through the night, carrying children whose idea of sensible walking shoes are purple jelly slip ons, and eventually paying a cab driver $15 to drive you to your car, which is located in Oklahoma.

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"I'm not even fishing, I'm [reading about] fishing!"

For Father's Day we sent DJ on an Alaskan Fishing Adventure. In our living room. (Did you think I was serious? What is this, 2007? Um, NO. And really, recliner fishing is the most acceptable form of Sabbath day fishing, in my self-righteous opinion.)

His adventure began with a meal of baked halibut, steamed white rice, cauliflower, and breadsticks, with vanilla ice cream for dessert--a meal as white as the family who ate it. As an added bonus, there is still the, ahem, UNIQUE aroma of halibut lingering in my kitchen. So it's like I am enjoying it TWICE. I'm kinda ready to stop enjoying this halibut.

After dinner, DJ hit the water. You should know, DJ is a serious angler who uses only the most sophisticated equipment. For his adventure yesterday he used the Broom Rod 3000 with a DVD player power cord strung through it for line.

And boy oh boy, were they biting! He really worked up a sweat reeling them in. (Or maybe that was because our A/C is broken.) At the end of the day, DJ caught his limit.

Happy Father's Day, DJ!

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I could be a doctor

This week my eyes swelled up to the point that I looked like one of those weirdo goldfish with the eyes that bug way out of their heads. I visited a "doctor" who shined a really bright light under my eyelids, looked nonplussed, wrote some stuff down, and then gave me a prescription for antibiotics which cost a total of $130.00.

Psht. *I* could be a doctor.

Anyway, this was a dilemma for me. Do I want to look like a mutant goldfish, or do I want to spend $130 on medicine which may or may not work, but will surely give me funky breath? I went with a compromise: take $30 worth of antibiotics, some Allegra, and half a gallon of pistachio ice cream. So far it's working.

What else did we do this week? A little bit of the botanical gardens, a lot of the Fort Worth Zoo, A LOT of the pool, a chunk of Atlas Shrugged, one box of Fudgsicles, two watermelons, and as little housework as possible. Happy summer!

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Wherein I discover that I might be in captivity...

The animals of the Fort Worth Zoo are organized. I don't mean organized as in they use Quicken and squeeze their toothpaste from the bottom, I mean organized as in they are plotting something. It's *so* obvious.

I don't blame them. I wouldn't enjoy having people watch me eat or scratch my bum and then sarcastically mimic my behavior all day long. (Now that I've typed it out like that, maybe I AM in captivity. Aww, CRAP! Am I in captivity?! You guys would tell me if I was in captivity, right?)

[awkward silence]

Aaaaanyway, it was a nice day at the zoo. Lots of animals. Not too many people. Just like I like it.

Caption contest! Here are the rules: 1. Nothing too gross. That's it. Grossness is out. For example, the zebra might be asking, "Do these stripes make my butt look fat?" or one elephant might be telling the other elephant, "Stand really still and they can't see us. Trust me, I saw it on Jurassic Park." Got it? 'Kay, GO!

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Lip Smackers Eaters Anonymous (or L.S.E.A.)

I've been thinking about Martin Luther King, Jr. a little bit tonight, particularly the following quote:

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character."

Tess eats lip gloss. I don't know what Dr. King has to do with Tess's chapstick obsession, nevertheless they are two things that have been marinating in my head tonight. I'm not sure how to break Tess of her yucky habit, but I am sure that I'm personally funding the CEO of Bonnie Bell's next trip to Mazatlan. (That's just a guess. I don't know where the brains behind Lip Smackers vacation. If I made a grundle of money by selling a half a teaspoon of flavored wax for $2, I'd be on my way to Mexico.)

Anyway, I dug my new tube of strawberry vanilla Lip Smackers out of my purse this afternoon and that's what I found. Here's how desperate the situation was: after snapping the above photograph with my Droid phone (LISA) I re-molded the remaining gloss in the tube and used it. Motherhood is so glamorous.

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Atlas Shrugged? Angry Birds?

Here's the battle that raged in my mind tonight:

Atlas Shrugged.

ANGRY BIRDS!

Atlas Shrugged.

ANGRY BIRDS!

ATLAS. SHRUGGED.

ANGRY BIRDS, ANGRY BIRDS, ANGRY BIRDS!!

Clearly, updating you guys on life in Texas won out over both the book and the bird-throwing game. I am never going to finish Atlas Shrugged, which is a pity because I'm quite enjoying it. It's just that it's 1100 pages long, font size 6. I read for hours and I'm still at the beginning of the book. As far as Angry Birds goes, I (finally) put the app on my phone yesterday and my kids and I are FLYING through the levels. It's instantly gratifying. We are kind of Angry Birds savants. (Or is *everyone* an Angry Birds savant? I don't know. All I know for a surety is that I would disgust Dagny Taggart.)

What have we been doing in Texas besides whittling away the days of our probation throwing birds at (inexplicably) green pigs? Buying the World's Most Scrumptious Tomatoes, that's what.

Observe the photograph above of my children enjoying free samples at the Dallas Farmer's Market. I never notice how wretchedly sub-par Walmart's produce is until I eat something that *wasn't* harvested three weeks earlier in the southern hemisphere. If you know me (and my kids), we are lovers of good fruit. This farmer's market is our new happy place.

Now I'm going to make a dent in Atlas Shrugged. For real. See you in 2016.

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