Pretending to be Outdoorsy

I have terrible allergies, pale skin and a love of reading and watching movies. That's why I'm thankful for Claritin D with Flonase, Neutrogena oil-free sunblock, Book People and Regal Cinemas. Now that I have a house, there's a compulsion to take care of the house not just inside, but also outside. I'm not outdoorsy. I describe myself as "indoorsy." (My friend, Maggie, agrees with me that indoorsy should be a word, because it is quite descriptive of our shared interests.) Alas, sometimes one has to venture outside and make an effort to keep the yard looking nice.


There was a dead tree in our side yard that Good Morning Tree Service removed last Thursday. In its place, Chad helped me plant these Pride of Barbados plants. They're pretty with bright blooms and do very well in Austin.


The plants we put around the base of the deck back in June love all the rain we've had this summer.


I finally found a St. Francis statue that I like. It was 25% off at Shoal Creek Nursery. I love Shoal Creek Nursery. It's less than a mile from our house, has great native plant selections and friendly staff. Visit them at 2710 Hancock Drive in Austin.

An Insomniac's Revelations about the 10th Grade

Last night, I actually slept for six and a half hours. Tonight, I got up after trying for an hour (unsuccessfully) to go to sleep. And before you ask: I got up at a regular time this morning; I went to the gym today and did an extra strenuous workout thinking it would make me tired; and I didn't have any caffeine past 4:00 PM.

Here's a few random memories from 10th grade:

I dyed my hair from dirty blonde, or pool-blonde as my mom called it, to black for a theatre show in which I was supposed to look Italian. The black didn't take well over the blonde. After a few days, it faded to an army-green color. My Algebra II teacher sang "It's Not Easy Being Green" in her best Kermit the Frog voice to me each day when I entered her classroom.

Also in tenth grade I was awarded "thespian of the year" by my theatre teacher. If you go to Vines High School in Plano, Texas, there's a plaque with my name on it, along with about thirty other thespians. I'm fully aware of the nerd-factor.

I was a deacon's daughter and I dated the preacher's son for a while. The preacher's son was two years older than me. If we had ever actually kissed, it might have caused a major scandal.

I read "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand to impress a boy, but after reading it, I decided I didn't like the boy anymore. I decided that I wanted to marry an architect someday instead. Although I did date an architecture student in college, my husband is not an architect and that's fine.

I drove a few times without a license, and without a licensed driver in the car to help me. My dad said it was okay. Luckily, I never got pulled over by the police.

If I needed a mental-health day away from school, I'd plea my case to Mom, because she usually said yes.

I was allowed to start dating when I turned 16 in the tenth grade. Oddly, that was also the year that my parents decided I needed braces and got thee not to a nunnery, but to the orthodontist. Same thing.

I had big hair in the form of a double-piggy-back-spiral perm. I told everyone the curl was all natural. For the record, the wavy hair I have now is natural, you can ask my stylist, Monica at Maximum FX.

I ran with the drama kids (histrionic dorks) and some of the drill team babes. It made for a few awkward social outings before I realized that I should keep the two groups of friends separate. I like to think I'm the person who introduced the drill team girls to the music of New Order, but it was the brainchild of my drama class and drill tream pal, Jenny. She even did a choreographed routine to the song Bizarre Love Triangle. Very progressive, huh?

I tried to be a vegetarian, but after several months of not eating meat (no, not even fish) I broke down and ate half of a Monte Cristo sandwich from Bennigan's. Yuck.

Jet-lag Would Justify It

For numerous reasons, few of which I can remember now, because I'm so tired, I am having trouble sleeping lately. I envy my cats and their amazing ability to sleep for long stretches of time. When Sonic (pictured above) stretches out for his nap, he really stretches out. That's a long kitty.

Last night stretched fitfully into this morning with lots of stress dreams. You know what I mean, the dreams where you are working on something, or you are involved in a nerve-wracking task or some kind of stressful communication, or you are being chased, and sometimes you are simultaneously in your birthday suit. These stress dreams disrupt your sleep cycles when you jar awake trying to reorient yourself to the fact that it was only a dream, that you should be sleeping peacefully. You look at the clock and think, if I can fall asleep now, I'll get a good three hours of sleep. The pressure to get some quality sleep then gives you another stress dream and the whole night turns into one big toss and turn fest. I have a few nights like this every three or four months. I do not want to take sleep medication and develop a dependency on, then a resistance to, said sleep medication. I prefer to tough it out. I pretend I have jet-lag and get up at a usual time and stay up until a reasonable bedtime, but the past week has not been optimal snooze time. And I didn't earn the jet-lag by going anywhere fun.

Monk Marathon = Happy

A year ago today, Chad and I were working hard to whip this old house into shape. We had only two rooms painted and unpacked: the guest bedroom, which we lived / hid in the first six months here; and the living room / dining room, which we didn't spend much time in because we could see into the other rooms that weren't painted yet, full of unopened moving boxes. It was hot. We were, no doubt, covered in little speckles of paint and primer. I think we had hot water for showers and washing dishes at that point, but I can only really remember that the gas guy took several weeks to show up and actually turn on the gas for the gas hot water heater and gas stove after we moved into this house.

Last fourth of July, I distinctly recall begging Chad to take a break from painting and cool off with me. We positioned ourselves squarely under an air conditioning vent and sprawled out on the living room floor. I flipped on the TV for some brain candy, and found that the USA network was showing back-to-back episodes of Monk all day. Yay! I love this goofy mystery show about a detective who has obsessive compulsive disorder and a plethora of phobias. Chad and I watched an episode and half of Monk before we dragged ourselves back into whatever room we were working on at that time.

I set our digital recorder to record Monk anytime it came on TV. Whenever we took a break from working on the house for the rest of the summer, there was usually a recorded Monk to watch. I came to associate the theme song of Monk with happy times when I could set down the paintbrush or screwdriver for a while, temporarily ignoring the long list of chores. The Monk theme song would start. My eyes would glaze over slightly. My brain would bask in happy chemicals. My back would relax into the floor, for I was far too dirty to put my icky, paint-splattered self on the sofa. Watching episodes of Monk took me to my happy place.

This fourth of July holiday delivered another Monk marathon which our trusty digital recorder captured while we bustled around getting ready to have friends over for dinner -- a nice dinner in our completely painted, unpacked, cleaned and (for now) finished house. After a yummy dinner with good company, we headed out to watch fireworks. After the fireworks, it was time to come home to wash dishes and clean up the dinner debris. Before we started washing up, Chad asked if we could watch an episode of Monk. Heck, yeah! The Monk theme song started. My eyes glazed over slightly. My brain basked in happy chemicals. My back relaxed into the sofa, for I am no longer covered in last summer's constant layer of sweat, dust and paint. Happy times...

Summer Movies Under the Stars

There are a gazillion reasons to love living in Austin, and I just found one more: free Sunday night movies under the stars at The Belmont. Despite more predicted rain storms, the weather was perfect. The pesky mosquitoes stayed away. My dinner, a delicious Cedar Plank Salmon Salad, was great.

This week's showing was Stand by Me, based on Stephen King's novella "The Body" (from the book Different Seasons.) The story is about four friends and an adventure they shared when they were 12 years old.

Katie and Brian, two of the cutest newlyweds you've ever seen, joined me. Brian is a Stephen King fan who had never seen this flick, and he gave it a thumbs-up.

My 8th Grade Heart's Desire

I only lived in the tiny town of Cross Lanes, West Virginia for a little less than two years. While there, I attended 7th & 8th grade at Andrew Jackson Junior High. I loved living in Cross Lanes despite, or maybe because of, the tiny size of the place. I could tell you the name of every kid in my grade, and maybe even every kid in the school.

When Cross Lanes didn't have what I needed, I would take the public transportation bus into the thriving metropolis / state's capital city of Charleston to go to the mall with my BFF, Angie Hindle. I liked the historic buildings in Charleston. There was a cool, huge library in the city that smelled bookish. There was a movie theater downtown where I spent many weekends.

When I think about it, Austin is kind of like Charleston: abundant in natural beauty with a river through the center, a small-ish city that serves as the state capital, with a quirky and friendly populace, and a good arts scene with a low barrier to entry. Maybe I liked Austin so much when I moved here for college because it reminded me of the super-happy times I had in Charleston.

In 8th grade, a beautiful, exotic-looking boy caught my eye at school. He was a year older than me. The rumor was that he had been expelled from Charleston Catholic School, which gave him a dangerous allure. He had the perfect skater-boy hair and the skateboard to go with it. His name was Virgil Sadorra. Virgil and I had an on-again / off-again flirtation over the years (yes, even after I moved away to the very different town of Plano, Texas) that never amounted to anything. The last time we spoke was the summer before my sophomore year at the University of Texas. He was about to go to culinary school, having discovered a great affinity for cooking. He sent me a little troll doll in a chef's jacket, which was just the cutest gesture. He even talked about driving down to Austin to visit me, but he wanted to stay in my dorm room with me, and that was just way too scandalous to consider, so the visit never happened.

Friday Virgil's name came up when I was asked about old crushes. I googled him today. He owns three (!) hot restaurants in Charleston now: Cilantros - a tex-mex place, Delish - popular lunch spot and Vandalia Lounge - yum, mojitos. I grabbed this photo of Virgil with his son from Charleston photographer, Rick Lee's, blog. Awwww, so cute!

I'm really happy for Virgil. He did good. I'm also really happy with my life in Austin and really happy to have my sweet husband, Chad. Chad and I joke that we wouldn't have liked each other if we met back in grade school, so the timing was good that we met at college.

Thanks, Hillary (Bergman; not Clinton)

I was having a rotten day. So very rotten was my mood, that I thought I was going to start crying while driving home from the gym, when usually the gym makes me feel happy and high on endorphins. I'll spare you the stupid details of why I was feeling so low.

I got home and read the email pasted below from my awesome massage therapist, Hillary Bergman. It lifted my mood and actually made me laugh out loud and count myself lucky to have three cute, sweet, weird kitties.

To All Pet Owners

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door - nose height.

Dear Dogs and Cats:

The dishes with the paw print are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, and try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years -- canine or feline attendance is not required.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough!

To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets:

1 They live here. You don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. (That's why they call it "fur"nature.)
3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
4. To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

Remember: In many ways, dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

1. Eat less
2. Don't ask for money all the time
3. Are easier to train
4. Normally come when called
5. Never ask to drive the car
6. Don't hang out with drug-using friends
7. Don't smoke or drink
8. Don't have to buy the latest fashions
9. Don't want to wear your clothes
10. Don't need a "gazillion" dollars for college.

And finally,

11. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children.

Insomnia Leads to Lawn Improvement

During a bout of insomnia last week, I watched a gardening show at 5:00 in the morning, and got a bee in my bonnet. I measured and bought my project supplies. I informed Chad that I'd be spending the weekend crawling under the deck and that I could use his muscles for digging holes (those muscles shouldn't be just for show.)

I put down 288 square feet of weed black-out fabric using 74 earth staples (giant staples that hold the fabric down to the dirt) and covered it with 11 bags of mulch. I used the leftover paver-stones from our driveway for the edging. Chad helped me dig holes for 9 aztec grass plants along the sides of the deck and I put out 6 coneflower plants along the front of the deck. I moved the glow-in-the-dark gazing ball over, and tah-dah! The deck area looks better!

Oh yeah, I found 3 huge snails and one tiny grass snake in the plants from the nursery. All were relocated to the far corner of the backyard. None were harmed. I just need to find a St. Francis of Assisi statue that I like...

Wrestling: Soap Opera / Pot: Kettle

While watching a recorded TV show, my thumb was a tad slow to hit the fast-forward button when the commercials started. I saw a promo for the latest installment of the World Wrestling Entertainment show, and was transfixed by a limousine explosion! I watched the whole commercial which reported that Mr. McMahon, the chairman of WWE, was in the limo at the time of the explosion, but that WWE would soldier on with their wrestling matches. Purely from an anthropological standpoint, I decided I needed to go to the WWE website for more information. The site reported the "presumed death" of McMahon and built quite a story around the "presumed" incident. An exploding limo, federal investigation, no body, questions surrounding "presumed" victim's psychological condition, a possible conspiracy... sounds like a soap opera plot. Who wants to start the betting pool on when Mr. McMahon will rise from his "presumed" flaming death much like a mythical phoenix rising from the ashes.

Nancy Drew Was a Great Role Model

My mom came to town last week so she could finally see the house all finished. She oooooh-ed and aaaaah-ed over all the hard work Chad and I did on this house, saying she hardly recognized it. Yay! She also harped on her and my dad's initial impression of our house purchase, that we were crazy and might get divorced over the very bad decision to buy and fix-up such an old house in need of so much love. Boooo... Have a little faith in me, lady. I know what I'm doing most of the time, and I know when to call in the pros to help me.

Mom shared a ride to Shreveport with Chad and me so we could attend Grandpa Regan's memorial service. It was a lovely service despite the Shriner (yep, the dudes with the funny hats who help raise money for burn victims) tradition to play Amazing Grace on the bagpipes. It was hard to see my dad's family again for another funeral so soon (six and a half months) after Dad's funeral. I got sick for a few days, as if that physical sensation of grief came back for a little visit. I'm feeling better now.

Mom also brought my old Nancy Drew books to me! I can't wait to re-read them. I wish I had the whole collection of the original 56 novels, but will make due with the 13 that I saved from childhood. When I was in elementary school, I would take my allowance every week to the Parisian's department store in Birmingham and buy another hardback book from the Nancy Drew series. I also borrowed a lot of the books from the local library, which explains why I only own 13 of them. I was flipping through the books and found an old Garfield bookmark. Memories of being a precocious little bookworm flooded back. I loved to read the mysteries in which teenage Nancy was so empowered and fearless in her quest to solve the case. In an age before the term "girl-power" was in popular use, Nancy Drew embodied girl-power! I eventually graduated to reading Agatha Christie mysteries in middle school. By then my family was living in Cross Lanes, West Virginia. I would take the bus into Charleston to the mall and buy my mysteries at the dreary Walden Books, which was not nearly as posh as the Parisian's department store.

If I hadn't had Nancy Drew as a role model at such an important developmental phase, would I have dared to buy this old house and work so hard to make it our home? Who knows. Maybe watching too many episodes of Trading Spaces back in its heyday had a little something to do with it.

My Perfume? It's Lake Water

Chad and I went kayaking by moonlight on Town Lake last night. We both loved it. The scenery was beautiful along the tree-lined banks with the city skyline to the east and the huge, stunning homes of Westlake to the southwest. We journeyed from the rowing docks on Stratford to Red Bud Island, pausing for a lecture on the history of Austin lakes and dams and the moonlight towers before rowing back. As we got further away from the MoPac bridge with its traffic noise, the night was quiet with a nice breeze that made a few waves on the lake.

I'm signing up for next month's moonlight cruise too. Come with us! Sign up through UT Informal Classes.

Here's the course description from the Active Life category:
"Moonlight Kayak Trip on Town Lake -- Experience Town Lake like you haven't before: by the light of the full moon. Our guides will take revelers on a journey in hopes of seeing all kinds of wild night life and moon beams dancing on natural springs. You will feel a million miles away from Austin's hustle and bustle as you take pleasure in Town Lake at its most mysterious, by the light of the silvery moon. Our trip will be at a relaxed pace so both beginner and advanced paddlers alike will enjoy it. Show up 15 minutes early for a quick kayak lesson by Rowing Dock instructors."

It's appropriate that I would be out on the lake last night. My grandfather (Dad's dad) passed away yesterday morning. He was 94, so I have a real peace that it was his time to go. Grandpa Regan lived on Cross Lake in Shreveport, Louisiana. I learned to water ski and slalom with him on that lake. I loved going out in the boat. I was terrified of the snapping turtles and water moccasin snakes that I saw on many occasions, but braved the waters anyway. That's kind of like life. There's some scary stuff out there, but you brave it anyway and have some great experiences.

Angst - n. A feeling of anxiety or apprehension often accompanied by depression.

Remember how you didn't really feel comfortable in your own skin in high school? If you answered ,"no," then please slap yourself a few times. Done? Let's move on. For all of my dorky accomplishments in high school (such as collecting lots of trophies for speech and debate competitions, maintaining honor roll status, being the editor of the video yearbook) I never felt cool or popular or like people understood me. I had angst, and so did my music collection. There were lots of depressing ballads about how the singer had angst and felt that no one really understood them. Sensing a theme here?

Tonight, Chad and I went to the Morrissey concert at The Backyard. Morrissey is one of the pioneers, legends and stars of angst music, who moped his way onto the scene back in the 1980s. He's pushing fifty years old, but the man can still sing! He delivered an amazing show with lots of the old hits and some newer songs. The Backyard is a beautiful outdoor performance venue with a natural backdrop of trees and a great sound system. The night was cool with a light, barely perceptible drizzle falling. It felt good to be outside. It felt good to be at a Morrissey show. However, when I looked around at the crowd of my fellow concert goers, it did not feel good. I saw aging hipsters (yep, count me in with that lot.) I saw sunburned, drunk people who seem like they go to every show that plays at The Backyard, regardless of who it is, and regardless of their musical taste, or lack thereof. I saw a few dorky, high school or college-age kids with their asymmetric haircuts. I saw several audience members who looked to be about the same age as Morrissey and who sang along to every word. Overall, it made me feel uncomfortable in my own aging skin, but not caring so much whether people understand me.

Happy House-Anniversary to Us!

We closed on this cozy, old house one year ago today! It's been hard work. In short, Chad and I filled in 54 years worth of wall cracks, sanded and painted every wall, painted or covered every ceiling, painted all the interior trim work in every room, gutted and remodeled the bathroom, scrubbed and scoured every dirty nook and cranny, built and filled a storage shed, hired a guy to fix the underpinning, hired other guys to build the deck and hired other guys to install a driveway. 99% of the hard work happened in the first six months. I won't lie. It was rough. Nothing that I'm willing to repeat, EVER! The daily stress combined with the kitchen housing paint supplies for over four months, meant that I ate fast food for just about every meal. Despite all the sweaty hard work, I gained 15 pounds on my short 5'2" frame. UGH. I've lost 14 of those pounds now, a measurement of life getting back to normal.

I'm glad (words can't begin to describe how glad) that we didn't move to New York City when the offer came last February. I couldn't bear to leave this home that Chad and I worked so hard to make our own.

I have to give some thanks and pay some respect to the people who made it happen.

Chad, thank you so much for being the motivator when I was a cursing, crying heap nearly immobilized by the amount of work we had to do on this house. Your "one foot in front of the other" drive got us through a major amount of work in record time, and amazingly we still like each other.

Adam Stephens, Senior Mortgage Loan Officer for Capstar Lending, thank you for making the whole mortgage process such a cake-walk! You rock! Readers in the Austin area, call Adam at 512-459-2407 when you're in need of a mortgage.

Sarita and Karen Kuykendall of Wilson Goldrick Realty, thanks for your invaluable assistance in the house search and for not sending us on our way when you heard our ridiculously low price limit for the area of town in which we wanted that rare gem of a fixer-upper.

Thanks to all of our friends who suffered through seemingly endless house conversations... yawn. Thanks to all the friends who complimented the end product. Thanks to all the friends who have spent time with us here and helped us build some great memories.

My one regret is that my dad didn't get to see the house after the hard work was complete. He and my mom saw the house before we even closed on it, before we had done anything to it. I got the distinct feeling that they were going to send the nice little men in white jackets to haul me & Chad off to the funny farm. Dad lived long enough to see photos of about half of the interior work. Dad and I shared some laughs over projects gone awry. I think that he started to understand our vision for the house and why we bought the place we did.

Goodbye Gilmore Girls

Tonight was the final episode of the television series, The Gilmore Girls. I have followed this show from the first episode through the last, for seven seasons. This is real loyalty on my part as I have never followed a show from beginning to end that was on for more than one season. I did not even follow my beloved Buffy the Vampire Slayer through to the end because the quality of the story lines diminished greatly with time and with a change of networks to the point that I just didn't care anymore.

I remember the first episode of The Gilmore Girls was delayed due to the horrific events of 9/11. I wanted something on the TV that was sweet and uplifting after seeing, but not believing, the fall of the twin towers. My mind needed a happy place to take refuge, and as shallow as it sounds, The Gilmore Girls was that televised refuge.

I will miss this show, the story lines, the characters and the fictional town of Stars Hollow, Connecticut like I miss a friend who has moved cross-country. Sure, I can still watch the show in reruns, much like I can email or phone that long-distance friend, but it's not the same when you are no longer privy to the day to day news, when you're not there as lives unfold.

There are many reasons that I connected with this show, and it would be way too psychologically revealing to list them all here. I will sum it up with these three reasons:
1. Rory Gilmore and I have the same birthday which is October 8.
2. We both hate raisins with a passion, not even wanting to eat food that you have to pick the raisins out of, such as an otherwise yummy muffin, because said food has been tainted by raisin-ness.
3. We both had high school best friends who are Korean.

I know, the similarities give me chills too! It's like Amy Sherman-Palladino (the creator of The Gilmore Girls) heard about me!

I recorded the series finale of The Gilmore Girls to watch later, so that I could go out with some friends tonight. (See, I'm not a total TV-obsessed loser.) One of the friends has a sister who loves The Gilmore Girls even more than I do. The sister stayed home to watch the series finale as it was broadcast. This caused another friend who was seated next to me to roll her eyes and express dislike of the show. Gasp! Tread lightly on the subject of The Gilmore Girls, my friends, for this show will always have a soft spot in my heart.

I have to go find more kleenex now.

Homicidal Fairy Princess

My fellow Murder Mystery Players and I debuted a new show last night in honor of Mother's Day entitled "Death Plays the Market, the Mother of all Crashes." The show is set on October 29, 1929, the day of the great stock market crash.

From left to right:
Jeff Johannigman as Anthony Discenzo - mobster out for the accountant's blood
Me as Victoria Van de Voort - rich witch before the market crash, now just a poor witch
Phil Klickman as Vincent Van de Voort - Victoria's previously rich husband, now poor and charmless
Tracy Cathey as Shirley Hemlock Holmes - the show's detective and a mystery writer
Gary Dean Hamilton as Alouiscious Snee - embezzling accountant who gets shot when news of the market crash hits
Anna Maria Garcia as Mitzi O'Malley - rhymes with ditsy, Vincent's secretary / mistress

I loved my costume which weighed about five pounds with all of the intricate beading. Tracy was kind enough to loan me her grandmother's vintage dress and jacket, a tiara, a fan with which to whack people on the noggin or knuckles, a beaded handbag in which to carry the fake gun / murder weapon and some costume jewelry. She even did my hair up for me, with about a pound of bobbie pins and hairspray. She's so nice! Oh, and yeah, my character, Victoria Van de Voort, was the killer. I felt like a very fussy, homicidal fairy princess.

The audience was very receptive and laughed at our jokes. They all had fun trying to figure out whodunnit. Some of the family groups in the audience seemed happy to have the distraction of the dinner show versus the alternative of awkward / tense dinner conversation.

Goin' Forth and Bein' Fruitful

No, not me & Chad. I'm NOT pregnant, I repeat NOT pregnant. This past weekend Chad and I traveled to the Atlanta area to visit his family which is now a little larger. Welcome Everett! Baby Everett doesn't do many tricks yet, but his big brother, Foster, knows lots of cool stuff like walking, talking and even cleaning up his toys. Everyone in the room has to clap when Foster puts away a toy. Foster watches and knows if you don't clap. He stares impishly and expectantly until you make with that clapping.





The newest addition brings the count to four nephews and one niece. Hmmm... I wonder which one I can interest in Hello Kitty and all things Sanrio?

Marigold Gets a Bath, I Feel Bad for Her

Grandma's Green Thumb

I like to think I got it.





I pruned the big tree out front. The branches were near dragging the ground. Yes sir, yes sir, eight bags full!

Cookies Smell Like Home

Our house is finally a home! After 11 months and 5 days, I baked cookies for the first time in this house. Oh sure, I fired up the oven to cook dinner many times. I didn't feel like I had the luxury of free time, inspiration, ingredients and clean, functional kitchen until tonight. I baked Chad's favorite cookies, oatmeal chocolate chip with extra cinnamon. They smell so yummy, much better than any scented candle, and you can eat them. I don't recommend eating scented candles, too waxy, blech.

I Don't Feel Like Dancin'

When we bought our house eleven months ago, there was an odd rectangle of paver squares in the backyard. 108 square pavers to be exact. Whoever put them there must have run a few pavers short, because there were two pavers missing from one corner of the full rectangle shape. Theories about the presence of the squares ran from the practical: a foundation for a storage shed or lawn chairs; to the creepy : a marker for the buried crime evidence; to the silly: a dance floor. The name "dance floor," cleverly proposed by our friend, Merry, stuck.

Chad and I finally removed the dance floor this week. Hopefully some grass will grow, and in a few months, the dance floor will be a dim memory. Oh, and the only things we found under the dance floor were a colony of snails, some fire ants and a few tenacious dandelions; no crime evidence.

Local Spendthrift Finally Treats Himself!

Let's get that disclaimer outta the way: I love my sweet husband Chad. BUT he has this weird affliction that causes him to agonize over purchases other than groceries or sale-priced sneakers. I'm not the only one who has noticed. One of his work friends will vouch for the four-month period of hand-wringing and obsessive research that had to take place before Chad bought a laptop computer.

I should also 'fess up that I never liked Chad's Volkswagen GTI car. With its V6 engine and tiny frame, it was like a roller skate powered by a bottle rocket -- too fast, all over the place and bumpy. Last Friday when Chad told me he wanted to go to the Scion dealership to look around, I was overjoyed at the prospect of ditching that VeeDub, that we'd dubbed "the Nauseator." I tried to conceal my glee while reminding Chad to take his proof of insurance, title information and checkbook with him, just in case he might want to trade-in the reviled VW. I doubted that he could make a decision so quickly about a purchase as large as an automobile, but I'm proud of him for sealing the deal. Here are pics of his new Scion Xb! I love the smoother ride and roomy interior with easy fold-down seats.




Chad also bought a grill to complete our outdoor experience now that we have deck furniture. It took a few shopping expeditions to different vendors and lots of online research, but we have enjoyed grilled veggies and chicken several times already.




We even had some friends over for dinner last night so Chad could show off his grilling skills with veggie and chicken fajitas. Since it was Friday the 13th, and we went with a fiesta theme, I got this yummy theme cake from Russell's Bakery that said, "Buena Suerte!" which translates as "good luck." We had good luck with the weather situation. The predicted tornadoes, hail, raining frogs and lightning held off until 9:00 when we were done grillin' and chillin' al fresco.

Awww, cute; Ewww, gross!

Sonic and Kenji have these little squeaky mice that they like bat at and carry around in their mouths. Both kitties give the squeaky mice lots of kill shakes out of some hunting instinct. Kenji likes to hide the mice under bed covers or behind one of the litter boxes. Sonic likes to bring his mice up on the bed with him. I'm not sure if he's proudly showing off his prey or if he is cuddling with the squeaker.

In possibly related news, the dead body of a female rat was found under the deck today. Leading suspects are Sonic and Kenji. Both cats have been spending time outside with me lately as I pull up dandelions and water plants in the back yard. Marigold prefers to lounge on the deck or hover in the doorway. She doesn't like to get her paws dirty, so I doubt that she was the perpetrator. Whoever killed the rat, I'm so glad that the body didn't get dragged into the house to be hidden or presented to me in the bed!

Poppin' & Lockin'

I love to tell the story about my husband, Chad, taking breakdance lessons. When he lived in California, the youngsters were into this crazy dancing style that originated on "the streets." Chad's venture into breakdance had zero street credibility. His mom paid for the lessons. They lived in the suburbs. Invariably when I tell people about Chad's breakdance lessons, they ask him for a demonstration. To my great delight, he usually looks sheepish, does a shy act and begs out of performing any poppin' & lockin'. (Breakdancing involves some poppin' & lockin' of bone joints and muscles for moves like the wave, the worm, moonwalking, etc...) One time at a wedding reception, Chad actually obliged and showed off some of his moves. Sadly, I must report that Chad's mom wasted her money on those breakdance lessons. One of the other guys at the wedding reception had a lonely childhood spent studying Michael Jackson videos and memorizing ALL of the choreography. He recreated several of Michael Jackson's dance routines with alarming and amusing accuracy! Thus putting Chad's so-called breakdance skills to shame.

Today after my yoga class, the lady behind me commented that she heard some poppin' from me during class. It was NOT the usual popping of chewing gum (bad habit of mine), but rather my knee joints popping and my leg bones popping in my hip sockets. The lady behind me was my mom's age and a little more limber than I'll ever be. Sigh. A few weeks ago in yoga class, I got a bad cramp in my glutes (butt muscles.) I got stuck in this hard yoga pose with my bootie-muscle-cramp, like physically locked into it. My poppin' & lockin' aren't very impressive either. Chad & I are well matched.

A Few of my Favorite Things

Chad & I did some minor yard work this weekend, which is not exciting. UPS delivered our deck furniture from Target's Smith & Hawken collection. This is kind of exciting, because we can better enjoy our deck, especially now that the weather is nice.

I'm in a count-my-blessings mood. The following is a list of some of my favorite things. You'll notice lots of food related items on the list, because I've been dieting, and because I'm kinda hungry.

Favorite dessert: S'mores
Favorite drink: Republic of Tea's Ginger Peach Tea
Favorite sushi restaurant: Uchi
Favorite comfort food restaurant: Hyde Park Bar & Grill
Favorite pizza: Home Slice
Favorite Tex-Mex food: Guero's - the senorita plato
Favorite clothing brand: Lucky Brand
Favorite stores to linger in: It's a tie between Book People & Love on S. 1st St.
Favorite shopping website: Bluefly.com
Favorite movie: Spirited Away
Favorite TV series: It's a tie between Veronica Mars on the CW and the BBC production, Midsomer Murders. (I like mysteries.)
Favorite book: The Hundred Secret Senses by my favorite author, Amy Tan
Favorite band: Nada Surf -- I got to see them play last year at Emo's. They were great live!
Favorite city to visit: Seattle
Favorite leisure activity: It's a tie between reading magazines in bed and going to yoga.
Favorite stylist: Monica at Maximum FX
Favorite cat: Who can choose?!

Hey... Beep, Beep!

I'm tooting my own horn here. Beep, beep! I'm 1/3 of the way to my weight loss goal and I'm very excited. I'm still doing the South Beach Diet, but with a few personal modifications. I lowered the protein intake a bit, because I'm prone to kidney problems and because I don't eat mammals. (How could I eat a furry friend? Fins and feathers aren't as charming for some warped reason that I've rationalized.) I also eat a Dove dark chocolate square just about every day. Studies have shown that the antioxidants in dark chocolate are good for you and that chocolate makes for happy brain chemicals. I'm ignoring any studies that refute this information, because those wacky scientists are just being contrary to get published. I also allow myself one semi-decadant meal out each week.

I'm going to the gym three times a week. With my ipod in place, I while away the calories on the elliptical machine. I do pushups and lots of crunches. I go to yoga once a week, though I'd like to practice yoga more. I've started walking a few miles in the evenings with Chad again at least twice a week.

Spa - aaahhhhh....

One of my favorite, and very generous, Furry Godmother clients gave me a half-day gift certificate to Lake Austin Spa back in December. I finally used my gift certificate yesterday. I got a massage, a soothing facial and had lunch at the cafe. The grounds of Lake Austin Spa are beautiful. Finding your way out to the spa is a little trippy, both in distance and in the vibe of the surroundings. You have to drive through this very Stepford Wives kind of master-planned community called Steiner Ranch. I am so glad that Chad & I have made our home in central Austin. We fought the social pressure to have a bigger house for the same price out in the suburbs. I think I'm allergic to the suburbs and master-planned communities. Anyway, once you get through Stepford Ranch, I mean Steiner Ranch, then you drive through some road construction to arrive lakeside at the spa. The spa grounds are landscaped with all sorts of native plants and fragrant herbs. The spa was pretty and nice-smelling, outside and inside. Recordings of nature sounds and serene music played throughout the treatment rooms and lounge areas.

The one discordance at my half-day at the spa was the overwhelming presence of a gaggle of birthday guests. I get the feeling some of them couldn't read, because they ignored the signs that were posted every 12 feet declaring the spa a quiet place for relaxation. They all had on silly, plastic tiara headbands and were ready for a hootenanny! I did my best to ignore these women until one of them threw the privacy curtain open on my post-massage shower. I was there in my birthday suit, and said, "excuse me," and tried to close the curtain quickly. Plastic tiara lady still had the curtain in her hand and stood gaping (the trips to the gym are paying off, I guess) while apologizing and trying to explain that she thought she had put her things in that shower. My mom has this saying, "they act like they've never been anywhere." Which means that the party in question lacks good manners and social skills. I think it applies here.

For those of you in Austin, I highly recommend that you browse Cissi's Market next time you're lounging around SoCo. One of my favorite previous clients, Victoria Lynden, was the creative vision behind this lovely coffee shop / deli / gourmet shop. Chad and I went this weekend for a look. We had coffee and a toffee crunch cookie (don't tell the South Beach Diet police!) The Kohana (Hawaiian) coffee was great. Cissi's Market is gorgeous inside with well planned, understated merchandising. Some of the items are a bit pricey, but it's good stuff. You don't want to fight the crowds at Whole Foods Market when you can get your indulgent items and coffee or lunch at Cissi's Market. The shop is named for Victoria's late mom which I find very sweet. And I'm NOT just saying all of this because she's the one who gave me the spa gift certificate, or because her dogs were my favorite canine clients!

Cut the Cake Already! (Our Trip to Los Angeles)

I feel that four hours should be the socially mandated duration for a wedding reception. Nine hours is excessively long for a wedding. I'll explain the source of these revelations. Chad and I went to Los Angeles for our friends' wedding. We really like these friends, and are genuinely happy to see them get married to each other. The venue, the Oviatt Penthouse in downtown Los Angeles was a beautiful marvel of Art Deco opulence circa 1927. However, the ceremony was outside on the rooftop and many guests were unprepared, lacking sunglasses. We thought the wedding, which began at 3:00, would be over by 8:00. When we covertly ducked out at 8:15, the cake had not been cut, the dancing had just started, I had the beginnings of a headache, and the word was going round that the happy couple had the venue until midnight. Really?! I'm not a big fan of any kind of pomp and circumstance, but I can usually whip myself up into a convincingly festive mood for about three hours. Four hours is a stretch, but I can sometimes plaster that smile on if there is promise of birthday cake or wedding cake. Mmmm... cake. Please, as a public service to all humanity, cut the cake before the four hour mark.

Two years ago, when Chad and I went to LA together for the first time, it was nice. We stayed at the Ambrose Hotel in Santa Monica. The hotel was lovely, with zen-like decor, Aveda shampoo & body washes and a free shuttle around town. Santa Monica was lovely with the beaches, the Promenade shopping area and the good restaurants. The whole area was lush with landscaping. My BEST friend from college, Karen Starr, met us for dinner two nights and played hostess, showing us around Santa Monica and Venice. We also met up with our friend in Pasadena who hosted us for a night and showed us around Pasadena.

This time around, our trip to LA was relaxing and nice, but not as splendiferous as our last trip. We arrived Thursday morning. We walked around downtown LA and saw the Design Institute fashion school. We also explored clothing designer showrooms in the Cooper Building which were not open to the public, but did allow us to press our noses against the glass walls and marvel at the lovely displays.

Our Pasadena pal was supposed to meet us Thursday night for dinner, but stood us up. We still haven't heard from him. Boooooo... We ate at one of the hotel restaurants that night, which was gross and expensive -- a double disappointment. The hotel itself, the Wilshire Grand, was nice with a big room, a pool and a 24 hour gym. It's located in downtown LA. Downtown LA is not that fabulous -- very much a corporate jungle of tall buildings and chain shopping.

We DID get to cross paths with Miss Universe, Zuleyka Rivera, who is a lovely woman and very funny judging from the laughter coming from her group. She was in town for some pageant, and stayed on the same floor as we did, dining each morning with us in the "executive lounge" (famous for the good, free breakfast and free Diet Cokes all day.) I also ran into Miss Universe in the gym. She's a hearty, curvy girl versus being a size-zero twig. She's my new hero.

Friday we ventured out to a salad place for lunch and to a bookstore. We found a yummy Peruvian-inspired restaurant called Cuidad for dinner. The ceviche was delicious and South Beach Diet friendly. I spotted Joel Madden from the band, Good Charlotte, there. He looks smaller in person.

After dinner Friday night, we went to a wedding-sponsored welcome party at the Point Moorea Tiki Bar which was housed in the hotel. The guests of honor were an hour late to their own party. (Gasp!) We made polite chat with some friends of the groom's parents' while awaiting their arrival. We stayed for another hour after the couple arrived, but then both needed our beauty sleep as we were still operating on Texas time which is two hours later than California time.

Saturday was the afore-mentioned marathon wedding.

Sunday was fun-day! Karen Starr came through with a fun day of activities in downtown LA that we would have missed if left to our own devices. We got to meet Karen's steady boyfriend, Matthew, who is very nice and fun. We had lunch and traded house-remodeling stories. Karen & Matthew also have a 1950s home, but are much braver than we are. Matthew knocked out a kitchen wall recently and is opening it up to the living area. Karen let him. Both very brave! After lunch, we walked past the Walt Disney Concert Hall to the Museum of Contemporary Art for a feminist art show entitled WACK! As a woman, I'd love to be able to say that I liked the show, but we all ended up making fun of it, which was fun in its own way. We detoured through Little Tokyo for sushi and "crazy milk" before trekking up Broadway (yes, there's one in LA too) to ogle a movie shoot in progress. Then it was time to hug Karen and Matthew goodbye and go rest. Sunday night we ordered room service and watched Deja Vu (the Denzel Washington mystery-thriller.)

Monday was travel home day. I am not a fan of the LAX airport. There's a certain sense of seething anarchy waiting to erupt there that makes me uneasy. The check-in area is very poorly planned and the security lines are long and chaotic. I think we'll fly into the Burbank airport next time, head straight for Santa Monica, stay at the Ambrose and hang out with Karen & Matthew. Oh yeah, and not count on any cake-cutting for our carb fix!

Fences Make Good Neighbors... for Peeking!

Our little dude, Sonic, has made friends with our two back door neighbors. They are Beagles. Sonic and the Beagles stare at each other and sniff each other through the knot holes and slats in the fence. It's achingly cute and sweet!

South Beach Update: It's Day 10 and I've lost 6 pounds. I feel a little low energy, and have been cranky from the carb-withdrawal. I love carbs! Good (whole wheat bread, steel-cut oatmeal, fruit) and bad (bagels, cupcakes, chocolate); I miss them so! On Wednesday morning, I'll be done with phase 1! I plan to celebrate with a piece of whole wheat toast and a golden delicious apple. Phase 2 will be much easier.

TGITemporary!

This full-time work thing really puts a damper on my blog reading, TV viewing, socializing and leisure reading! I've been pushing papers and fielding phone calls at the art school for the past week to help them with the annual onslaught of parents trying to pawn their kids off to art day camps for the summer. Some of these preschool parents get downright tearful when I deliver the bad news that the summer day camps are all full. I don't blame them if the racket in the background of these phone calls is any indication of how their days are spent. I hear kids bickering, doors slamming, wee ones whining, dogs barking, other phones ringing, musical instruments being abused and in one case, glass shattering. Yikes! Is it awful that I love kids, but don't want my own?

I'm halfway through the ultra-restrictive Phase 1 of the South Beach Diet. I spend a good portion of my day chewing crunchy vegetables. I am counting the hours until I can eat an apple and a slice of whole grain toast in Phase 2. (No fruit, no sugars, no baked goods of any kind, no carrots, no "bad" fats of any kind are allowed in Phase 1.) Chad has been kind of doing the diet with me. I say "kind of," because he ate a sandwich bun Saturday and had squash (a forbidden vegetable) tonight. I should be glad that Chad wants to be supportive and act in solidarity with me, but it's actually quite irritating. He is thin and muscular and does not need to lose weight. It bugs me that he would deny himself yummy things and be so disciplined when he doesn't need to, and probably shouldn't. My inner-irrational-angry self (she sounds fun, huh?) feels like he is mocking this HUGE sacrifice I've made in my eating habits. It's as if he's saying, "What's so hard about this? I'm thin and muscle-bound, and I'm having no trouble sticking to this diet." To which I reply, "Aaarrgh! Eat some bread and sugar, skinny boy!"

I'm glad that my job and Phase 1 of South Beach are both temporary, because I'm getting a touch cranky!

Manhattan is Dirty & I'm Busy

Wow, it's been a long time since I had a free moment to update this blog. Sonic enjoys climbing over the newspapers and mail that I need to sort.

1. We are safely home and NOT moving to New York City. Interesting place to visit; not where we want to live, not even for just a year. I have such a sense of peace about this decision. I love my cozy-cute 1952 house! I love Austin! I love my friends here!

2. I got a temporary, full-time job helping out at the art school where I worked back in 2000 - 2003. It's fun being back there and helping them get through a busy time, but I'm glad it's temporary.

3. I started the South Beach Diet -- should be named the South Bitch Diet! (Sorry for the bad language, relatives!) I need to lose weight and develop healthier eating habits. This diet is very sensible, and I'm not starving, but I am currently in "Phase 1" which is super-restrictive. Phases 2 and 3 will be much easier, but I am craving a tortilla like nobody's business!

So here are photos and a few of the things we did in New York City last week:

We arrived on Wednesday, February 21. We stayed at the gorgeous corporate apartment. It's bigger than our house! Centrally located on 5th Ave, the apartment boasts 2 master suites, 3 bathrooms and a huge, open, modern kitchen and living area. The only downside was that the owners of Chad's company hosted a reception party Wednesday night for the New York office employees at the apartment, so we didn't get to bed until kind of late.

Thursday I shopped and explored Chelsea and Union Park while Chad worked. The snow piled up on the sidewalks was filthy-dirty. That filth clings to your pants cuffs and coat tails. Now I understand why New Yorkers wear dark colors from head to toe. I thought they were all just depressed, but the dark attire hides the dirt. ICK! I met Chad in the evening and we attended the New York office-warming party to celebrate the new digs. I shook hands and smiled and nodded and tried to make jokes and ask people about themselves and it was SO BORING. I am a bad trophy wife. After schmoozing the business connections at the party, a smaller group of us went out for Mexican food. New York does NOT have good Mexican food -- go figure!

I poured my heart out to one of the New York office girls about how much I miss Chad when he travels, and she seemed to be sympathetic to my situation and was very complimentary of Chad. Later, I rounded the corner just in time to hear this same girl urging Chad to get a divorce and be "an eligible bachelor in New York City." Yeah... she's off of my holiday card list!



Friday I finally got Chad all to myself! We ate at a very hip, yummy restaurant disguised as a coffee shop / diner. Chad is pictured outside of it. Can you feel the irony oozing out of this place?

Chad and I explored some cool stores and walked for miles.

We went to the Modern Museum of Art. Chad liked this painting because it matched his shoes.

Saturday we went to lunch at the Union Square Cafe. We saw the 2:00 show of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. The show was schmaltzy-cute, but fun. We walked home through Times Square.

We found a few blocks of Broadway around 28th Street that are to be avoided in the future at all costs -- scary and apparently where you can buy drugs. Yikes. My best advice in these situations is to keep walking purposefully with your head up, because these unsavory characters can smell fear. We pretended to be confident and they didn't bother us.

Saturday night we met up with Carolyn, who used to live in Austin. We hung out at her very cute, but very tiny apartment in Lower East Village. The shower was seriously in the kitchen! I thought that was a false stereotype about New York City apartments, but it's true! Her rent is the same as our mortgage and we have about 800 square feet more of living space. Carolyn took us to a great Indian restaurant for dinner -- YUM!



















Sunday we ate lunch at Lupa, one of Mario Batali's (of Food Network fame) places. Chad, who was born in Italy, loved it. After lunch we explored SoHo shopping. It started snowing, so we went back to the apartment to rest. We got a take-out pizza for dinner and watched the Academy Awards. I braided Chad's hair and gave him silly cornrows. Anything to avoid going out in the snow!

Monday I flew home and Chad flew off to Ohio for a work meeting. We're both home now and need to do some laundry!