Superstar!

My little boy is an amazing basketball player--we cannot believe how he's taken to the sport. Maybe it's his height (he's number one):
Maybe it's his amazing six-year-old speed and agility:

Maybe it's his dribbling skills:

Or maybe, just maybe, he's enjoying himself while stealing the ball:

Whatever it is that makes him such a superstar on the court, we are thrilled beyond words to watch him. The best part of seeing him play is that he is incredibly encouraging to everyone on the court--and that is more important than any athletic skills he may possess! Go, Bears, Go!

Too much time on her hands

Okay--if ever a woman was deserving of winning the prize for having too much free time on her hands, this is her--watch it and weep (but I don't expect you sit through the whole painful thing!) http://www.koreus.com/video/chien-danseur.html there. are. no. words.

Spectacular day today. The weather could not be any more beautiful--we have thrown open all the windows and are airing out the house, which is good, considering that my sweet hubby painted baby girl's room yesterday and today until her ran out of paint. Oh my--we may have a problem. I was gone yesterday while he painted the two coats on the two walls and let's just say that if I had been here, we wouldn't have gone further than half a wall before I screamed: "NO--WRONG COLOR! BAD PINK!" BUT, I wasn't home, so I'm going to try to figure out a way to live with it. . . .or cover it . . . .or something . . . . .

Poor baby girl wanted a hot pink room and I put my foot down. Her room would be soft pink--her bathroom could be hot pink. I wanted to avoid the Pepto look at all costs. So, we picked out what I thought was a gorgeous soft, sweet, little girl pink. After two coats . . . it looks like a cotton candy machine exploded in her room. Seriously.

She got her way after all! The honest truth is that when she walked in today after all four walls had been painted (although two with only one coat of paint), SHE STARTED CRYING. Not loud, bratty wails, but huge, salty, crocodile tears running down her cheeks. Genuine sad, remorseful, "Oh my God--what did I ask for and why did I really get it?" tears. I haven't had the heart to break it to Daddy yet, but we may be modifying the pink . . . .I'm going to try to live with it for a week . . .try . . .try . . .

P.S.--I couldn't live with it--and I learned how to paint a room for the FIRST TIME IN 35 YEARS! Here are pictures of evil pink (which, as you can see, photographs really well) and soft, precious "Charming Pink"--we love our Charming Pink room!

Moment I NEVAH want to forget!

Okay--it must be recorded. My little angel girl, who turned three in December, just grabbed me by the cheeks (yes, she's still up at 9:30 p.m.--BAD mommy!) and said, "Mommy, you a precious girl." If you could hear the tone of voice with which she made this astonishly brilliant statement, it would be even more endearing. She is my doll baby! Thank you, Jesus, for this answer to prayer of a child!
On a totally separate note, I decided today that if you're going to jump off the diet bandwagon (which I've been on for a little more than a week), you need to take a running, flying leap out of a tall building--I made up for all the calories I've been lacking in one day flat today, and it tasted SOOO good--although I know the scale is going to be hell tomorrow. I even treated myself to a beer with my bar-b-que baked potato (imagine the hugest baked potato EVER loaded with cheddar cheese, chopped beef and bar-b-que sauce and you'll get a little picture) because hey--if you're going to screw up the diet, you as may as well really screw it up. This after I consumed 120 ounces of water yesterday . . . I deserved that beer, didn't I?? I'll get back in the saddle again tomorrow, but today did feel good and I don't think I regret the vast amount of calories and fat I put into my middle.
Went to the Woodlands today to visit my poor 96 year old grandmother. God love her. She's a perfect specimen of physical health--but the mind . . . oh the mind . . . .at least she was in a really sweet complimentary mood today and told me over and over that I just get prettier and prettier with age, which is just about the kindest thing she's ever said---that is ONE advantage to losing your mind, I guess. My past three to four conversations with her have gone as follows: "With their blonde hair and blue eyes, those children just COULDN'T be your husband's. It's just not possible." OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER. No, Meems, no illicit affairs--just a strong gene pool.
Discovered a fabo picture of Meme with my aunt, uncle, four cousins and their combined ten children (one was still in utero) taken last summer, when my cousin was pregnant. Asked Meme when everyone got together, and, bless her heart, she couldn't remember. Based on the clothing, I logically deduced that they all got together to celebrate her 96th birthday on the Fourth of July. "Maybe," was the only response I could get to that suggestion. Anyhoo--how sad it is that I live less than two hours away, yet noone could pick up the phone to let our side of the family know about the celebration? How sad is it that my children have never met their second cousins, some of whom are their age? How sad is it that my cousins have gotten older, wrinkled, and well, fatter, and I stayed as fabulous as I was the last time I saw them?? I know I haven't changed at all--what happened to them??
Better get the babies to bed--it's almost ten. xoxoxoxoxo

Charity Ball, dahlin

So hubby and I went to the Junior League Charity Ball tonight for maybe the twelfth or thirteenth time in our fabulous lives. He always calls it the prom and acts like he doesn't want to go. But this year was different . . .so different. This year, the Charity Ball committee selected a honky-tonk Texas bar singer named Roger Craeger to be the entertainment of the night. Which meant . . .that everyone was supposed to wear cocktail dresses with boots and a hat. Being the renegade that I am, I decided, after weeks of deliberation (and being too fat to fit into any of my former cocktail dresses or purchase a new one at this size) to WEAR JEANS. Yes, it's true. I was the outlaw (or so I thought when we left the house) and wore my super cute jeans with black detailing and lacy stuff and crystals and rhinestones that I've had for over two years (and, in case you were wondering, were purchased for my trip to Graceland). I did find a new top--a black sweater with silver threads through it and matching large tacky crystal/rhinestone things along the neckline--it was on super clearance for a whopping $29.99 at Belk--which is less than I've ever spent on my Charity Ball ensemble. Got to the ball and. . . lo and behold--I was not alone in my jeans. Neither was Kevin. In fact, a lot of people decided to take the casual approach. We had a ball (no pun intended) and enjoyed ourselves more than ever before. Thanks to my friend Cherri for taking this picture of us and eliminating everything under my shoulders--isn't my hubby a darling cowboy???