Disciplined Indulgence: Inner Beauty is for Amateurs

Uneven bars, floor routines, and tumble tracks all entertained me as a child, but my most favorite apparatus in the gym was the balance beam. I never fully was aware of how important the skill of balancing would become to my daily grownup life. At the time I was more worried about learning how to turn on one foot and how to perfectly land my dismount… and honestly, a bigger fear was making sure my orange glittery nail polish (named Boys Drool) matched my bright blue multi-colored polka dot leotard. I learned at a young age how important it was to dress for your itinerary.

Perhaps that was the reason my first phrases as a child were “Money for Macy’s” and when my dad would kindly reply with the question, “How much?” I would sweetly ask for, “Thirty bucks please.” If karma comes in the form of your kids, I am in T-ROUBLE!

Anyway, a few weeks ago, my sister came to me with a quote she had found online:

“The average woman would rather have beauty than brains

because the average man can see better than he can think.”

We both got a great laugh out of this. Though it made me really wonder is this true? Are you willing to sacrifice brains for beauty? When consulting with a plethora of friends over this topic, I got responses ranging from a simple “yes” or “no” to “I have enough brains to figure out how to be beautiful”… to “I like to think of my husband as the brains behind my beauty and it makes us actually work really well” – thinking to myself later, what the heck does that even mean?!

Then one late night a simultaneous phone conversation and facebook chat with two great friends occurred and we all came to the SAME conclusion at the SAME time. It must be divine intervention because not just one, but THREE light bulbs went off. I feel my friend stated it best when he typed, “I couldn’t be with someone I wasn’t attracted to, nor could I be with someone who I couldn’t have a conversation with.” 110% Agree; conclusion: everything is a balancing act. I would like to mention that as important as it is for a female to have both beauty AND brains in order to attract a decent male companion, it is also important for men to have intellect and good looks as well. We don’t want to find out our knight in shining armor is really some idiot in tinfoil.

Similarly to the relationship advice my father always gives, “…learn to pick and choose your battles. It’s always about give and take, Amber… yada yada” I feel again like this is proof there are things in life we have no choice but to balance.

Here is a short list of things in life I sometimes struggle with balancing…

1. Give and Take

2. Pain and Pleasure

3. Sweet and Sour

4. High Maintenance and Low Key

5. Work and Play

6. Saving and Spending

7. Indulging in Sweets and Working Out

Currently, I am reading two books. (I have successfully catapulted down the path of reading as my new hobby) The second one that just arrived is FABULOUS, so incredible that Hollywood turned it into a movie which I am choosing not to see until I have completed this book. Shouldn’t be too hard because until I started writing this blog, I haven’t been able to get my eyes off the text of Eat, Pray, Love.

This book is providing words that I desperately needed to hear. Elizabeth Gilbert writes of her journey to find balance by taking a year long trip around Italy, India, and Indonesia. She sought after the things I am currently seeking. “I want to learn how to live in this world and enjoy its delights, but also devote myself to God.” … “I want worldly enjoyment and divine transcendence- the dual glories of a human life… the singular balance of the good and the beautiful…”

As difficult as it is to sometimes balance beauty and brains, I am fully prepared to immerse myself in one of the toughest balancing acts to date. Through text and prayer I will seek purpose, significance, and the essential balance my heart and life require. One step at a time, one foot in front of the other; just like walking across the balance beam. Practice makes perfect.

I am fully aware of the discipline this will require and fully unaware of when I will achieve it. I intend to move from anxiety to peace and will send you a postcard when I get there.

Temptation Island

Is it possible for a love affair to last forever?


Heaven knows, a healthy shopping habit can deplete a girl’s funds faster than the bat of my blue eyes… Too bad shopping is my favorite hobby. It is safe to say that I love everything about it, but my expeditions have been squelched by poverty. So instead, I had no choice but to cheat on shopping… This summer I had an affair with the sun, the country, the Brazilian Butt Lift, and getaways. I became addicted.


In the beginning, I tried to take up window shopping, but it was too hard. Each time I saw that dreaded four letter word: SALE, I felt forced to add to my fashion collection. Probably a good thing I am not a fan of the “look but don’t touch method” since online shopping does not appeal to me!


This reminds me of a story my pastor told the first Sunday I visited church in Argyle. He was a youth pastor at the time and his beautiful wife was in law school at OU. (Boomer!) She too has a love for fashion and is also a fellow Limited shopper. Her biggest weakness is blue jeans. He would preach, she would attend the first of 3 services and then would head to the mall. After several months of repeat blue jean purchases, my pastor felt it was time to have a “Come to Jesus meeting” over funds and hobbies.


“Wife, because I love you, I want to support you and your hobbies. However, due to current circumstances and money being extremely tight, do you think you could go to the mall and just not buy anything?”


“Well, husband, because I love you, I can try. But what if I see a pair of jeans on sale for a great deal?”



“Then go try them on if you must, but then visualize the devil since he is the one that tempts us and you won’t even want them anymore”



“Okay, I will do that for you.”



[one week later]



“Hey Honey… can you come in here? whats this bag on the bed?”



“That’s my new pair of jeans… only $20 on sale!”



“What happened to our agreement?”



“Well, I remembered it. I did exactly what you said… I went by Limited, saw a great pair of jeans… on sale AND in my size… Then I tried them on. And as I was looking in the mirror thinking to myself how cute they looked, I visualized the devil behind me… “



“So what happened? What went wrong?”



“Well I said out loud these jeans look great from the front… then the devil said, ‘they look great from back here too!’ So I just HAD to get them!”



Unlike my pastor’s wife, jeans will never be a weakness of mine. Shoes on the other hand are a different story… You see, shoes are NOT just footwear. They have some sort of mysterious super power —a practical pair, a fun pair, a pair you have nothing to wear with… flats, flip flops, stilettos, even tennis shoes—all shoes allure us girls. Best stated by the company titled, Jesus Had A Sister:

They are more than a love affair, shoes are an addiction.

Probably because you never have to diet in order to wear them!

I quit shopping cold turkey, and now I am having awful withdrawals. I ventured to the mall two weeks ago with a friend and sounded like a 5 year old kid who believes fully in the power of a tantrum, as I reached for a pair of sky high tan, yellow and brown snakeskin pumps, whining, “I waaaaannnt these!!!” Truly pathetic, I will admit.


I can now cope with those who are trying to quit other addictions like smoking. It’s not nearly as easy as one would think. I always want to leave a forwarding address after I flea from temptation. So can my love affair on shopping last forever? Well, the summer is coming to an end—there will be no more lay out and tan under the sunshine days and no more random Tuesday visits to the country, but I will always have the Brazilian Butt Lift and the ability to getaway once in a semi-annual sale. (Just kidding!) Perhaps I can cheat on shopping with something that can last year round. Okay, maybe not cheat… that sounds awful, but instead I can replace shopping with a new hobby… like working out, reading, and organizing. I feel those things are more beneficial for my health and the budget anyway.


Lesson Learned. Not all love affairs can last forever, but you can replace them with something much better: a stable relationship. So long Southlake Stilettos, Hello Adidas Running Shoes!


Oh Treadmill, I hope you never get sick of me. You’ve just become my new getaway. And books my new hobby... Congratulations.

Abundance

A few of my favorite things. [In no particular order.]

1. Tasty Treats like Icecream. Especially in the Winter.

2. Pedicures, Polished Toes and Friends

3. Pearls, Pearls, Pearls. You can never go wrong with Pearls.

4. The Beach... my long lost love, how I miss you.

5. Vacations, New Experiences, Shopping in the City and Nordstrom Rack

The End.

Momma Knows Best

Recipe for Summer: Mississippi Mud Cupcakes… Three main layers; one to represent each of the Three Musketeers. Though we can best be described by our new Anne Taintor handbags.

LaLa: a German OCD who is full of wit and perspective and new recipes. Her bag reads, “Please stop me from volunteering again” though it should probably really read "please don’t volunteer me."

B-Roth: a laid back sports guru who is confident, loyal (oh that orange!) and a tad bit sarcastic. Her bag reads, “Funny… I don’t recall asking for your opinion.”

And then there is me: a little high maintenance sass who loves a new accessory but loves her friends WAYYY more. My bag reads, “I love not camping.”

As you can probably already tell from our descriptions, we provide a great checks and balance system for each other and anyone else who crosses our paths. Similar to how we equalized each other, we also structured our days perfectly together.

Mondays were craft day and dedicated to our Bethenney show and leaving no sweets untested, but Tuesdays were unofficially pool day. Though we always said we would try out a pink bikini, we never did… instead, we discussed the important things in life like how we would most effectively tan every part of visible skin, the latest Big Brother episode, and how we would like to become snow cone flavor aficionados full time. Too bad neighbors could not overhear pool day conversations… they would have certainly been entertained!

• “Neil Caffrey just moved Max way down the list on husband prospects... Yes, but currently I only need a football husband for the upcoming season”
• “Why didn’t y’all tell me a little goes a long way? I look like I could be a part of the BP oil spill”
• “I don’t know his real name, I just call him Fluffy… he’s on loan for a week”
• “My legs are reallll white, do you think if I lay like this I could fix it?”
• “I love browning lotion, but you can only get it in Maui- practically no sun block but it’s made from cocoa and stuff”
• “OMG Girls, Serious drama-Mother is trying to pick me up something from the grocery store…”

After making this last comment, we shifted gears and talked about family and relationships.

Topic: Momma Knows Best.

I filled them in on the story of the chlorine turtle… Allow us to travel back in time to 1997. My best friend, Julia, came to visit our new family home in Plano, Texas. Being July and HOT, we went for a swim. For some reason as a child I LOVED the smell of gasoline and chlorine. I don’t know why, but checking with my friends—it didn’t seem so weird. Anyway, I convinced Julia to pick up the floating pool turtle (after mother said absolutely 100% regardless of whatever you do out here DO NOT PLAY WITH THE TURTLE!)… just to see how good chlorine smelled… well she REALLLY inhaled it and nearly died… Her short life probably flashed before her eyes. Luckily, our new neighbor was a medical professional of some sort and was able to help Julia fully recover. This is the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the phrase “Momma Knows Best”… Lesson learned: when she says don’t play with the turtle, it includes don’t touch it. Period.

LaLa starts a great topic on appearance and proper etiquette. Our mothers always told us to never leave the house, not even should we go to the mailbox without a fresh face and earrings. We would have probably sent them into heart attack mode if they knew how we dressed for college classes some days … or even today how we came to the pool. You never know when you are going to have a date with fate, so you must always look your best. Probably why I would “fix” my hair when I was little, and my mother would instruct me to “try again.” It was training for when we would become interested in boys...especially ones who wear plaid shorts. Momma Knows Best.

We talked about a party south of the border; it didn’t go so well… I shared, they sympathized. Like great friends would do before giving you their real feedback. B-Roth starts to give me the same advice my mother would have, “find the best in people”… “even if you have to dig to the center of the Earth to find it”…Ugh, Friends and Mommas Know Best.

Finally, just as I sadly as can predict the rotation of sales at the Limited, mothers know coupons and the grocery store. They can train us how to pick the best produce, how to save more than you spend, and sometimes can spot the best looking home décor. Too bad your budget will NEVER allow such a costly purchase. Then mid grocery trip, they teach us how watermelons are sometimes like men; we see what we want in the people that we love. Even though the watermelon can look ripe and pretty on the outside doesn’t mean they taste sweet on the inside. Mommas normally know best, but sometimes they forget that watermelon is only in season for a little bit… what I am really interested in is the apple who’s around year long. I understand there are lots of different options when it comes to apples and occasionally you get a rotten one, but every now and then you get a perfectly crisp one.

Lesson Learned: Mommas are humans, and mostly know what is best for you. However, friends like the 3 Musketeers also understand that daughters are stubborn and sometimes we don’t want what’s best for us. We just want what we want. No matter how messed up our poor Jimney Cricket has become from the smell of tanning oil or chlorine... That’s why not only it is important to value a mother’s opinion, but it’s crucial that you have good guidance from girlfriends.

Summer 2010 came to an end and so did watermelon season, but thankfully, the 3 Musketeers are year round. There is no “bye” in our “goodbye” just a whole lot of good! Similar to a recipe creation for Mississippi Mud Cupcakes—no “carbs or fat or sugar” just a whole lotta delicious!

Sweet Tea, Mudding, and Fireflies: Country at its Best

The evening started out unlike any other—I burst through the front door of my “summer home” with tears streaming down my face. The anticipated greeting was tarnished as soul mate giggled a little at my appearance, and laughed a little harder when she failed to mention that we had two visitors. Awesome—not only am I clothed in my *best* attire [a rose colored cotton skirt and an oversized gray t-shirt that featured a stain of apples and oatmeal on the front], but I rush to the bedroom without even introducing myself. How incredibly Rude of me, I know… I didn’t hesitate to capitalize the R. I broke down again as soon as I hit the princess and the pea bed—a little embarrassed about my arrival and reliving the nightmare that had been my week.

Accidentally losing track of time due to girl talk, a delicious blend of sweet tea and not being able to find something suitable for me to wear, we messed up our scheduled plans. Allow me to depict how upset I was at this time: not even ice cream or Nordstrom shoes could cure my blues! Just as paintball was a fix to a lost dog in Failure to Launch, turns out country mud fights (and a few great dance songs) were a perfect solution for my mess! "...1 o'clock, 2 o'clock, 3 o'clock, 4..."

So much fun that I had to pry the checkered galoshes off my feet- though the pattern (at this time) was really a mystery as they were fully consumed in mud as was my whole body—head to toe! I do believe my hair would have been “gelled” back like Miss P’s if I didn’t wear my Real Tree hat. Then again I chose to wear a bright shirt instead of something camo-like. Turns out mud shows up REAL well on sunshine yellow.

The night ended with a deep discussion about desires and wants under a dark curtain full of fireflies and shooting stars. We had been told at sometime over the course of my visit that there is nothing we cannot have… Pretty much it was established that if we worked hard enough we could have anything our heart desires AND anything we could ever want. Hahaha… Typical male, not even in the same book as us… To him, we were talking about typical girl stuff: accessories like the new Michele watch, shoes, or a trendy outfit… maybe a new car, plastic surgery, and a nice pool we wouldn’t have to maintain. However, that is not what we meant at all.

Currently I desire a teleporter, a genie who doesn’t limit me to 3 wishes, and to control another’s free will. None of those things are realistic. I cannot fulfill these things no matter how hard I try, how much my heart desires them or how much effort I put forth.

In between prayer and song, a few days later, I thought for .78 seconds that maybe I COULD have the World- who’s to say someone won’t invent a teleporter for my next birthday gift?… but before that thought would be fully allowed to process in my mind, the Sunday’s sermon quickly reminded me, God is not in the wants business. Wants are never ending, if you fulfill one it is replaced by another.

How ridiculous I sound when my best friend once nicknamed Patches, who is heavily medicated and highly motivated, only wants to see the next day. Who has come to terms with knowing she might not ever have a 25th birthday let alone be able to get married and start a family. Who desires to be able to eat again, dance again, migrate from one room to another without a walker and to be cordless; not attached to an IV pole (that is currently as loose as a 5 year olds tooth) or her “Dora the Explorer” backpack of medicine.

She is a reminder that God will provide what you need. She also shared with me a new amazing perspective… you can see God’s work and everything else better in hindsight, so when you currently might not be able to see clearly, perhaps you should bend over and look at it through your legs. Oh Patches on drugs… Similar to a firefly (or Vegas)—she shines so bring that regardless if she stays or goes, her light will always remain.

Life is not a nightmare, it is a gift. I am thankful for what I have and appreciate the simple things- like sweet tea, mudding, and fireflies.

How Sweet It Is...

With the exception of high caloric ingredients and the occasional bad server, I am a fan of eating at restaurants. They are a great excuse to dress up and socialize, you order anything you like the way you want it, its brought to you and cleaned up after you. Delightful! However, I am not normally a fan of The Buffet… not of Cici’s or high dollar ones found in Disney World. I feel overwhelmed, obligated to fill my plate with food that often shouldn’t all go in the same meal, and end up eating my body weight in dessert 100% of the time. There are only two exceptions to this: a breakfast buffet (It’s my most favorite meal but I rarely wake up early enough to fix a great dish) and a fro-yo buffet (self serve frozen yogurt store with a toppings bar the size of Texas).

"Welcome to Tutti Frutti, would you like a sample cup (meaning 1/4th the size of a dixie cup)"… My answer is always YES! Shamefully, I must admit that I have been there twice in the last week and a half! As I walk around with my STACK of little sample cups, I try almost all the flavors especially the new one… (there is ALWAYS a new one!) Even though I always choose the same thing… ½ cheesecake, ½ twist of cake batter and red velvet cake as my base. Onto the toppings… this is where I diversify off Normal Street and like to mix it up, just a bit… Oreo, strawberry and sprinkles are the staple then I just pick and choose based off of what my taste buds desire that day.

Then comes the WORST part: the Weigh In. Ugh, I just decided right this instant that scales are rarely good to me, if ever! I utterly despise them-- more than socks with sandals, even more than paying tolls and taxes… Regardless, it’s a fact of life. I swipe the plastic and then the world stands still as I get lost in Fro Yo Heaven.

Amidst everything, I have a tendency to fantasize about how wonderful it would have been to have a dating buffet. If you could set a foundation of what you wanted, then add on personality traits or physical features in the quantities you desire… a large scoop of loving kindness, a pinch of sarcasm, two spoonfuls of wit and intellect, a handful of laughter and fun, a mound of patience and respect, and top it off with GQ status good looks, etc. It’s not like I’m asking for the world…

Really, I have the simplest of tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.

The problem lies in always wanting to come back and opt for something just a little different… a new flavor yogurt, a different amount of one ingredient, a replacement topping… We become addicted to the options that we aren’t ever going to be satisfied with just one dish. There is no such thing as “the best.” What sounds appealing on Monday could not quite “hit the spot” Friday.

I love that the world is full of endless possibilities & infinite opportunities. I love knowing the fro yo buffet is stocked full of countless toppings all days that end in a ‘y’. I have loved options my whole life, but recently, I would really enjoy having only one.

Perhaps just a simple, small frozen yogurt twist in a waffle cone with a cup full of filtered water on the side.

You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

Stow–verb (used with object)


1. Nautical .

a. to put (cargo, provisions, etc.) in the places intended for them.

Key words being “places intended for them” …This is the almost opposite of what Julia and I did with confetti eggs. As you learned in Glue Lesson 101, trouble ALWAYS found us! This adventure is no different, except we got into trouble before our real, planned adventure was to begin. It was sometime in the early Spring (pardon my memory it was a long time ago) when we took confetti eggs; you know the kind you empty out and fill with paper and glitter of the sorts—very exciting to us, as we could cause some serious mischief with the boys down the street from the apartment complex (one of these boys just so happened to be the son of my family’s optometrist) And yes, shamefully, I said took… you see earlier that day we found these beautiful little creations and took a few complimentary ones. A reward for us being… well, us! Later that night we put them in a basket and onto a top shelf buried in the back of Jul’s closet and would soon forget about their existence. We didn’t want to be caught taking stuff that didn’t belong to us. Truth be told, I don’t really remember where or how we got them.

One summer night, we rediscovered them… game plan: throw them at the building next door and run like present day Usain Bolt into a tree (yes, we were tree climbers… Julia mastered climbing along with the rap of TLC’s “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls”… both skills she later taught me). Problem… we got a little bit excited and cracked one of the “confetti” eggs… just to find out *GAG reflex*… it wasn’t a confetti egg… it was a real egg that had ROTTED! Just the thought of the rancid stench makes me want to vomit! It was SO bad her mom was able to smell it (with the door closed) from two rooms away! Hence the trouble… we not only had to explain why we were caught playing with a rotten egg or where it had come from, but what we were planning on doing with it… and then had to try to get rid of the smell—we were in SO much trouble that I was thiiis close to being sent back home for the night. But I am sure Ms. Yuri thought it was more of a punishment for me to have to stay and smell rotten egg all night! Those dang eggs deceived us! What looked like fun turned out to be nothing but malodorous mischief!

Deception is a horrible thing, yet we are surrounded by it every . single . day of our lives! A few examples thought up by myself and Miss P:

• Sour patch kids say “naturally a fat free food” except HELLO what does sugar turn into when it doesn’t metabolize?

• Spanx make us all look slim but eventually you have to take them off before you get into bed

• Burberry is an English brand and yet inside the label reads “Made in Italy” … better than Mexico or China, but still!

• Big Game Bob looks calm like he’s got everything under control.. and then we lose via statue of freaking liberty

• Country male singers look 30 with a hat on, but 50 when they take it off

• “Cubed” in appliance-ville really means crescents and not 6 sided cubes

• Holding up the pinky… beware, it’s really just a more polite way of giving the middle finger, “the bird,” invented by me and Eggo, but its expanding rapidly

“Any seeming deception in a statement is costly, not only in the expense of the advertising but in the detrimental effect produced upon the customer, who believes she has been misled.” – John Wannamaker

You don’t want to walk the path of a woman who feels led astray, its one tough road to hoe.

… And the prize for the worst smelling deception goes to the “confetti” eggs, but the award for best deceptor of all time, I believe, belongs to the human heart.

In the past, I followed my heart, but it turns out it always lead me to what I needed to fill my short term need, what felt right at that moment, or what I desired instantly. And that is not always what is best for you.

It is my new full time job to learn to lead my heart; relying on my head to do what is right for the long term and for the future, but being okay with leaning on my heart for guidance, emotion, and passion.

The best of both worlds.

Should be a nice little adventure, but without the trouble- Fingers Crossed!

Dear Julia, Please be on standby, as I may need you to bail me a few hundred more times in my life. Love, Am

Sticks and Stones, Skulls and Crossbones

In a world where false advertising runs high and trustworthiness runs low, we are often forced to get second opinions… is this blazer blue or black? Are you sure these precious pink skull and crossbone boots are going to fit me; I mean I really like them, but I just don’t think they like me?


Most people ask for second opinions on real estate, medical issues, and men (or women). I get mine on clothes, jobs opportunities, relationships, pretty much everything. I like to be absolutely certain that I am making the best decision for me so I consult Amber’s Army: the few, the proud, and the pretty…. Or pretty handsome. The thing I have to be prepared for is to face my 8 closest girlfriends… aka the mirrors you can’t avoid when you’ve put on a few pounds. And my 10 closest guy friends who won’t sugar coat ANYTHING and ALWAYS tell me how it really is. They all know me SO well-- inside and out…

• better than the difference between a real Louis and a fake one (okay, not the guys… better than the knowing when to switch from an iron to a wedge),

• better than singing at the top of your lungs in a car to your new favorite song and knowing if its rap that I will convert into my alter ego, Ambyonce, in 5.7 seconds,

• And even better than crunchy peanut butter with homemade strawberry jam on wheat bread, you get the idea ….

Something I appreciate and admire about them for sure: They are all able to handle me, and know very well what they were getting into when they signed up to take the job of being my friend… or maybe they didn’t, but they are troopers! They know I am up for everything and anything, they know I would never intentionally hurt someone, I love people and will give them the respect they deserve even if they are not my favorite, if the TV isn’t on ESPN then its most likely Food Network or Disney Channel (I am still a kid at heart), but they also know I am just a lil opinionated, am entitled to a bad day, am consistently inconsistent about new hobbies/trends and am ALWAYS going to wear my heart on my sleeve… unless I get a tattoo of it on my foot. (don’t get too excited, odds are better that they send a peacock for a shot to win a million dollars in a poker tournament hosted on the moon!)

Most importantly, they love me just the way I am, just as I love them for all their own individual reasons… for sayings like: "Did you just see this bird used my arm as a restroom? I think we should make a bigger deal out of this!"..."I have this theory"..."I just Marilyn Monroe-d Kentucky --on a work trip"..."I’m too pretty not to procreate"..."You’re going to be cleaner than a bottle of Tide"..."Crown the whiskey, not Crown like a crayon"..."Roger that, Burke"..."I am going to have a scar from a fork"..."You're probably going to need church-twice" ..."Shut up. Good night."

Here’s the thing, words are great from friends who make you laugh, provide you a source of joy, and help create memories, but not all words are great. There are a lot of words in the English language, and some simply should not go together. “Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never hurt you.” REALLY? *palm to forehead* I would like to have a word with the person who came up with this faulty statement.

It has been my experience that words can hurt more. I would rather take the sticks and stones and deal with the temporary pain. Some words that are said get replayed in our heads daily and end up hurting worse than if we were to have cuts all over our body, got tossed into a pool of lemon juice and then fell into a big ole dirt mound! I understand the context, how you are the only one who can allow others to make you feel inferior, but it is SO hard to do… It is my desire and goal to not allow other people’s hurtful words get into my head. Dear friends, please try to hold me accountable to this.

I have found it’s hardest when the words that are spoken aren’t even true, yet those that you really care for choose to believe them. I mean REALLY care for, would do anything for-- ANYTHING… Would go out on a limb and risk one of your limbs breaking just to make their day a little better… Would bail them out of jail without making one single judgment about them because you love them more than skull and cross bone boots, more than seeing your favorite player receive Heisman, and even more than life itself.

Of all the things in life that I choose to get second, third, and fourth opinions about, I will never need anyone else’s opinion on this group of friends. In fact, of all the challenges that life throws my way, I am certain that I could get through them, but not without the help of my Army.

Thank you all for believing in me, for giving me grace, and for always being there.

I love y’all whole heartedly. And don’t want to imagine one day of life without you in it. I mean how tragic will that be to not experience a peacock on the moon, or for you to really not understand how hardcore I am when I wear Miss P’s skull and crossbone accessories.

Tragic, with a capital T, that is!

Do You Believe in Magic?

It’s not anguish or resentment, sadness or regret, but sometimes the hardest thing to feel is happy… especially for someone else. The three time lottery winner in this place called “the Recession,” the new girl who gets to reap the benefits of a man that another girl spent years training, the unqualified professional catapulting up the ladder of success without a glitch.

Despite the desire to be the better person, it’s near impossible to be happy for someone else when you aren’t happy. [It just might be easier for a die hard Sooner fan to wear a sɐxǝʇ jersey all football season long.] It’s difficult to remember what makes you truly happy and excited when somebody else enters into the picture because as Sting sings, “every little thing (they) do is magic.” They give you the feelings people only write movies about, and those feelings are incredible! I often wish I could bottle them up and sell them on eBay—I would be a Billionaire! Every human heart deserves to feel like they are soaring at the top of the mountain without care, however, feelings change. Although feelings aren’t decided in a single day, they do change. It’s inevitable; people change, things change, and feelings change.

That’s why I believe you always need to create room for “Abracadabra” in your life; this can come in the form of a specific person, a group of friends, a favorite outfit, 174 calorie mouth watering cheesecake, hobbies, or a new app on the iPhone 4, etc. Let’s face it, since Happily Ever After is sometimes as far from reality as Greenland is to the Equator, we all need to find a little magic of our own somewhere. To remind ourselves of what makes us happy. It is a great time of the year to invest; I decided this as I passed 30 firework stands on the way to the lake Fourth of July weekend. Buy 1 Get 20 Free. Sounds like a great idea to me-

Men might have discovered how to make fire, but Women have mastered the art of playing with it… And my business card should read Pyro.

Fireworks are my absolute favorite thing.

I feel it’s only fair to defend those critics and say, I believe in magic. I am an optimist at heart, but I am learning that sometimes is more important to be a realist. And is absolutely imperative to be true to yourself and to your heart. Living for another human’s stamp approval is the dumbest concept I have ever heard… I just can’t process this... It makes me more disoriented than a snow storm in July; my iPhone’s service in East Texas; and going to another city to find out that the Hills came on at 9 instead of 9:30.

The irony is realizing the years I have been masking my own hurt by doing everything in my power to make everyone else around me happy. Maybe I was addicted to the pain of wanting to fulfill someone’s needs that many times seemed so unattainable… Whatever it might have been, I finally realized I had to let go, but it turns out there’s really nothing special about being free from standards if you still rely on someone else to make you happy.

I don’t want to undo it. I learned from it. I have moved on. And I still believe in magic.

From this day forward I will invest in myself, in Abracadabra, and will create my own happy… for when things in life that are supposed to be magical and fabulous run out of pixie dust.

Glue Lesson 101

Earlier today I was sitting on my parent’s plaid couch staring at their marble chess board. Every time I look at it, I reminisce back to the days of when trouble always found my best friend JJ, now called Jul or Julia, and myself. Often times we blame shifted my younger sister, and that worked okay until it was time for JJ to go home, then I would get in trouble.

Well, I remember my mother got a new piece of fancy décor for our formal living room in Pennsylvania. We were instructed multiple times not to touch it; it was marble and very expensive. That made it all the more enticing; what’s the big deal we thought? It’s just green and white and as we tried to pick it up… we discovered it was REALLY heavy too! Bad idea! You see all the pieces fell and hit the glass top coffee table… As we assembled the pieces back ALL over the board as we clearly thought they went, we took a deep breath of relief as we noticed we didn’t break anything… And mom didn’t even yell about the loud noise (probably because she was working out in our basement, saved by the grace of a great wood door!)


Then I realized… Oh No! Shoot!! One of the pieces was beheaded-- we searched high and low… There it was the head of a Queen. As I look to Julia with mass confusion and utter panic, she yells “we need to find glue NOW!” She was always the thinker behind how we are going to get out of messes at my house, and I played the same role at hers. Smart plan… Elmer’s saved the day… or so we thought, until we heard mom yell for us a few hours later… Dang it, hot orange Elmer’s arts and crafts glue doesn’t dry clear! Why did nobody explain to us the difference in orange, pink, yellow and white glue?! To this day, I am still not sure why nobody cared to give us glue lesson 101.


Thinking back on this eventful day made me ponder that perhaps a difference in men and women can best be explained by this classy game of chess. The queen is essentially more valuable than the king as she knows how to work her way around the game any which way she chooses and is able to change her direction at any time (as long as its her turn). However, the opposing player only actively seeks the queen in order to pursue the king and win the game. Still, the king can only make one move at a time, and eventually they get cornered… often by the other queen. [Side note: I do understand there are other pieces, and sometimes it’s another figure that comes into play unexpectedly and becomes your magic move; the difference between you experiencing victory or total defeat. Though that figure could be in the form of anything from a knight to a pawn; I call him my Abracadabra.] The rules are the rules; you can break them, but don’t try to change them. If you changed the rules, you change the game entirely and chess no longer exists.


Same holds true in the relationship, once you try to change somebody, it’s doomed. Neither one will budge even one inch. It’s kind of like the fat on my thighs—I can work out all the time and be so toned all over, but the weight never comes off my legs. It’s depressing really.


Speaking of depressing-- realizing every relationship has to come face to face with the law of diminishing returns; the point when every little thing that you once loved converts into an awful liability. The upside is learning how to be happy overlooking imperfections, and choosing not to love them under a faulty stipulation that they change a bad habit you don’t care for, or suddenly start a new routine. Its best left alone. Learn to love it or move on.

Don’t try to change the rules. It’s easier to pretend a hot orange necklace doesn’t surround the neck of my mother’s white marble chess queen!