The Nearness of You | Ella Fitzgerald & Louie Armstrong Hands down, the sexiest song ever written. Makes my brain hazy and my skin tingly every time. I think I played this on my junior recital? Although I added a samba section in the middle. (via iamblessed)

The Nearness of You | Ella Fitzgerald & Louie Armstrong

Hands down, the sexiest song ever written.  Makes my brain hazy and my skin tingly every time.

I think I played this on my junior recital?  Although I added a samba section in the middle.  

(via iamblessed)

(via iamblessed)

GPOYW

Am I the only one that uses her camera phone to find out if she’s having a good hair day? When I look in the mirror I move around too much trying to find my good side.

So I’m wondering if Gary Go has been reading my blog. Or another lonely housewife. Dead on.

[youtube=[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYvg6cTOi9E&hl=en&fs=1&]]

HOLY SNAP.  I don’t paint my nails because 1. I’m bad at it and 2. it doesn’t last - I use them too dang much.  But this… so tempting…

(via applearts mel-dc)

Dear Mr. President, There are too many states nowadays. Please, eliminate three. P.S. I am not a crackpot.

Dear Mr. President,

There are too many states nowadays. Please, eliminate three. P.S. I am not a crackpot.

Grandpa Simpson (via hunsonisgroovy)

I got home from the airport in the AM of this morning and I’m faced with the post-family gathering let down where I’m missing the people who love me most.  Celebrating Grandpa’s life was bitter, very sweet, and an something I am so thankful I didn’t miss.  Is it just me, or does anyone else experience the crazy range of emotions at funerals where you are so devastated for the loss, and yet so overjoyed to be brought together with so many people you adore?  So, I was heartbroken, and happy all at the same time.  I got to spend time with these two ladies (Mommy and the Sanny) who love me in spite of knowing me better than anyone.  I’m feeling very blessed at the moment.

And thanks to all of y’all, I’m not envying anyone today.  Me is okay today.

The coolest little bro ever playing the tune he played for grandpa’s funeral yesterday.

The coolest little bro ever playing the tune he played for grandpa’s funeral yesterday.

the green monster

I’m ready to admit it.  I love reading blogs.  I LOVE reading blogs.  I can do it all day.  I think I might have actually done it all day at some point.  We’re all in this together and all that.  But dagnabit, I have to admit something.

I have cjane envy.

Oh, I know that if we all traded lives with each other one day, we’d be begging for our own lives back.  God tailor-makes our weaknesses and strengths to handle our own lives.  And how she and her family have handled the trauma of the last year with class and dignity is admirable.  Really.  But every now and then I read her fabulous writing skills, about how she lives so close to family and friends, they have these fun crazy adventures and she has sisters (I’ll never get over wishing I had a sister… or that WonderGirl had one, as much as I love the Dude), and all the pictures of them looking cooler than cool, there’s a twinge of envy I stuff back down with almost every entry.  Yes, she certainly has a life that looks fab, but we all struggle.  She does, I do, we all do, nothing to start getting jealous about.

And then I happened on this picture from her 30th birthday…

I can hide it no longer.  My pity party for one is now a full blown flash mob. Dagnabit, I’m days from turning 30, I have no friends, no plans, I live in the middle of blasted nowhere, I just spent an ENTIRE HOUR trying on clothes to see what I could pack to wear to my grandfather’s funeral this weekend and NOTHING FITS - I can’t even button any shirt up or zip up any skirts - I’m so blasted depressed to have this stupid body that is larger than I’ve ever been and I hate it - AND - I do not own this skirt.  I don’t even have anywhere to wear a skirt like this. 

I give up.  I can’t be optimistic anymore.  I have cjane, and everyone else on the planet envy.  Envy for people with friends in their own time zone and date nights.  For anyone that doesn’t live across the street from a flipping farm.  For my friends who are celebrating their 30th with trips to Vegas and Hawaii, heck even a nice lunch out would be nice.  Envy for poeple who can fit into their clothes, or live somewhere where they can at least go shopping for ones that fit, since I live in a town without a single clothing store.

Ignore the crazy.  I’m just so lonely and seeing that skirt… my dream skirt… and not having clothes to be able to wear to my own grandfather’s funeral  - it’s just too much today.  Tune in another day when I am able to see the world as it is and know that these problems are absolutley NOTHING compared to the bigger things in life. 

That day just isn’t today.

GPOYW

styled out

I have this theory.  With many women and men, at one point, their fashion stops.  That’s the explaination for those people you see wearing pants with pleats at the waist.  And large bangs.  Et cetera.  I’m terrified of getting stuck on the 90’s.  What with that being when I headed to college - ahh, the golden years.

So lately, I’ve been trying to figure out what the heck is with fashion nowadays.  Trying to not get left behind - but, let’s face it, I’ve been busy.  SO I think I finally figured it out - it’s a vintage, 20s, 30s thing.  Structure, feminine accents and such.  Very Zooey Deschanel, who I’m pretty sure SexyHusband secretly has a thing for.

Which is fine, since I have a thing for Mr. Bean.

Problem is, I don’t think I can do this style thing.  I am terminally, a tee shirt and jeans girl.  I can’t stand shirts that button up or have collars - they just create drag and slow me down.

Ug - and I am a ballet flats, flip flops kind of girl.  Practical, as much as i wish I wasn’t.  I can’t chase kids in heels, and I have nowhere to wear them.  I have so many shoes from my pre-baby years that are high and fabulous.  I wore them to concerts, parties, even church.  But no more.  The only time I ever even dress up anymore is for church - and since SH has early meetings on Sunday, I have to single handedly get myself, a newborn and a 3 year old ready and out the door by 8:30am, so I’m lucky to get my hair dried, let alone gussied up.  SH wants me to get rid of all those shoes (there’s a lot of them), but to me, that signals the end of my stylish years. 

I really, REALLY hope baby vomit takes off as the new hott accesory.  I am all over that trend, baby.

My mom’s father died last week. The last of my grandparents. Jane said it best here. I’m not mourning him because I want him here - he was in so much pain, and he missed his wife so much. It’s because the patriach is gone. It’s because my mom and her siblings are missing their parents (I can’t begin to imagine what that feels like). And it’s because it’s the end of an era. Luckily, he was a prolific man and there are volumes of stories and talks and prayers to read, so not all of his zaniness and wisdom is lost. I didn’t go to my grandmother’s funeral a few years back, what with me living on the opposite side of the country and having a small child, and I regretted it. So this time, I’m going - with my 1 month old Dude. The stress of that will likely distract me from the sadness of the occasion, so I hope I will be able to focus on the celebration of his life, and comforting my mom. He did 92 years well. Married for… well, I don[t exacly know, a long time - 7 kids - all the stuff that matters. Good stuff. Go hug someone.

SH just turned on the TV for his weekly college football fix, and found my alma mater actually televised - only because they are playing a way better team (cellochiche’s alma mater). Oh, poor North Texas. At least your music school rocks.

how to get a girl.

You guys are AWESOME - I’m still listening to all the love song suggestions and falling in love with them.  Faboo taste in music y’all! 

On the love theme, I have to share this fabulous post from The Wild and Wily Ways Of A Brunette Bombshell :

because i’m feeling generous.

a word to the boy (not-quite-yet-a-man) at the gym with hair resembling that of patrick dempsey:

sometimes it’s not so much what you look like as how you look at  the girl.

OH MY HECK, SOOOO true.  I have fallen for some of the most unlikely characters because of a look.  SexyHusband is one of them.  Any guy can get any girl - if he looks at them in THAT WAY.  It does this thing to your insides and you know you are helpless to resist.  Heck, I have an irrational crush on ROWAN ATKINSON for goodness sakes, because of this look he gives a gal in Johnny English.

I kid you not.

A few months after we were married, SexyHusband and some friends came to a gig I played with my band in a small pub in the Atlanta Underground.  During one break, I went and sat on SH’s lap and chatted with our friends.  There were only a few patrons at the bar, mostly basketball fans hanging out after a game.  One fan who had been watching us play for a while came up to SH and said - “Dude, you are a very lucky man.”

What SH answered will go down in history as the coolest thing I have ever witnessed.  He looked the guy square in the eye and with his arms around me he said -

“It’s not luck.  It’s skill.”

True story.  AWESOME.

GPOYW

The best picture I could get of moi and WonderGirl with a iPhone. Dang that kid never stops.

(via ooliquidnightoo)

This makes me laugh out loud, and when something makes me laugh out loud I want to share it with my husband.  Except in this case he’d make some snarky comment about how it’s so true, and then I’d get mad and when he couldn’t stand me being mad anymore, he’d have to go out and buy me something to make me nice again.

True story.

Need a pick-me-up?  Here’s 2 Minutes to Happiness tips from Prevention magazine. 

(via ooliquidnightoo) 

Could…. not.. resist….

(via applearts,Stupid Inventions,kapa)

Stupid invention?!  Whoever came up with this is a friggin genius. This would come in handy while eating sushi very sleepily.

help me intrawebs

I’m looking for your favorite not-cheesy-but-uplifting-NOT-overplayed-diamond-in-the-rough-and-not-too-slow love song.  The kind that makes you happy, may even make you want to dance, and makes you feel all indie cool because it’s not top 40 stuff. 

Helps?

Nickle Creek : The Hand Song This came up on my iPod the other day and even though I don’t usually like to listen to the slow tunes when I have time to listen to music, but I let it play out because I was too busy to forward to the next song. Hrm, I thought during the first verse - it’s okay, sappy but it’s Nickle Creek so I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt, plus now that I have a little boy it makes me pause. Then, the second verse - I couldn’t help it, I burst into tears. Trying to teach my little ones about God, Christ, and the “good news” of the gospel is the most important thing I have to do in this life, I know this. But often it hits me how hard this is and how much I’d rather be doing something else. I spent the first 25 years of my life mainly training as a violinist, and in the last month I’ve touched my instrument once. I miss it so much I can’t explain how much it hurts. But then the second verse… the little boy gaining a small testimony of the love of Christ in such a simple way… for a moment it softened the empty feeling inside, and filled it with a quiet reassurance that I’m doing the right thing by choosing family over … well, everything else really. I have friends touring the world, recording, gigging, living the life I wanted, and I do nothing but care for two little children all day here in the middle of nowhere. I still don’t really like the life I chose, even though I know it was the right decision. But I know at the end of it all… it won’t be about the gigs, the records or the bands… it will be me, standing before my Maker, showing him what I did with the time and the angels He gave me here on earth. I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that this is what He wants me to be doing. And I’d rather go with His will, than mine. The payoff, I’ve learned, is much greater than following my own silly mind. fyi: If you are already emotional for some reason, don’t listen to the third verse. It’s kind of over the top. The first two are smile-inducers.

[youtube=[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UXTkCDozScc&hl=en&fs=1&]]

During my masters, I was lucky enough to get a job at a music academy teaching lessons where the owners did everything else - the scheduling, the payments, it was a suweet deal for me.  The downside was they scheduled me within an inch of my life - try a Saturday of 8 hours of students without a potty break. 

After a few hours, every student, from 2 years old to 60, started to look and sound the same. 

One student though - whew.  In walks this gorgous young couple fresh from New York (along with the accent!) and their tiny toddler in a stroller.  At first I was confused as to which one of them would be my student - it turned out to be the mom.  Her husband was already a musician, and they wanted their son to have the full-on Suzuki experience, complete with the mother learning the violin in advance and the child coming to lessons, observing, and then the mom can teach and play wtih them at home when the kid does start.  Doesn’t that give you goosebumps??  I’ve only seen 3 parents do it in all my teaching and it blows me away every time.

They were the nicest little family, so happy and positive that of course, it makes you (okay, me) think how come they have it so good?  Why is it sooo tough on my end?  Yeah, I’m a sad sack.  Violin is not an easy thing for an adult to learn and she was no exception, but it was so obvious how much she loved her son and how excited she was to share it with him.  And the way her husband looked at her… wow.  It would have been annoying in my perpetualy dumped state had it not been so blasted genuine.

I continued my “woe is me, why do they have it so good” attitude until one day when I remarked on a necklace she wore with the picture of a man on it.  She told me it was in memory of her father who had been killed in the World Trade Center on 9-11. 

The look in her eyes was so pained.  And still there was so much love there.  It was one of those moments that you can actually hear the train tracks in your brain switch directions.  The sad sack thoughts gone - I thought “Wow - if they can go through that and have that much positivity and love seeping out of their skin - I want to try to be like that.” 

Lucky for me, they found me on Facebook, and incredibly, they are even happier.  They honor her father by living a life he would be proud of.  So every 9-11, I think of that family.  And I want to be better. 

the rest of the story

Y’all are so crazy sweet.  But to give some substance to my constant whining about my less-than-svelte physique, let me recap this conversation I had last night with WonderGirl and myself:

WG, looking up at me: You’re big.

Moi: Um, yes.

WG:  Big like Mungus!

Moi: Oh - Mungus the giant from Dragontales?  Yep, I’m sure tall. *(thinking - gee thanks kid - but let’s leave it at that, m’kay?)*

WG, patting my still protruding and flabtastic belly: And you have a big tummy!

Moi: gurgle.. sniff…

(at this point, SexyHusband is being no help at all and is trying not to laugh in the corner)

WG: When is the other baby in your big tummy going to come out?

………………..!

So you see folks, I take a picture at a flattering angle and you wonderful bloggers come out and give me that ego boost I so desperately needed and BLESS YOU for it, because the feedback I get in real life from the only person I interact with for most of the day that has verbal skills - less than helpful.  Dang kid, we need to start teaching her how to lie.

GPOYW

We don’t own a scale.  You can understand why.  But today at the doctor’s office, I found out I’m only 10 lbs. over where I like to be.  I’m just all misshapen in the middle region and I have to be patient.  I am NOT a patient girl.  But upon hearing that news, I took myself shopping to find a shirt that does not squeeze around my middle so I won’t keep thinking I’m a puffy freak.  The result?  This 5 dollar gem.  I got one in black too.  SCORE.

Today already started poorly.  I was trying to find some clothes that fit but everything made me look 4 months pregnant, and the Dude wouldn’t stop shrieking the entire time.  Frustrating,  But last night, WonderGirl and I invented Silly Sandwich Sushi.

So I’m not all bad.

(via lorenrochelle)

We had family here this weekend for the Dude’s baby blessing and a wonderful time was had by all.  Well, all except for the 19 month old cousin who WonderGirl (I gave her a new name, she’s not toddling anymore!) clocked in the face and got a fat lip.  But other than that, lovely.

Of course, when they left it was suddenly quiet and the silence seemed to say “You live in the middle of nowhere, with no friends! HA HA!”  Jerk silence.

I’m working overtime to stay positive, but it didn’t help that we had to take a shopping trip today because I do not own a single pair of pants that fit.  Yes, I gave birth 3 weeks ago, but not even my fat pants?  Really?  IThose pants were ginormous.  And not even the I-don’t-own-any-pants-that-fit pants I bought after WonderGirl was born fit.  It’s just demoralizing to have an entire closet of clothes that you can’t wear.  And to live in the middle of nowhere and have no friends.  And spend your entire day with a 7 pound screaming machine.  Oh he’s cute, but getting yelled at all day gets a little old, especially when you have no one else to talk to.

On plus side, I still live in America, have enough food to eat and running water, a nice car to drive and a husband who loves me.  Pfffft.  (that’s the sound of the air being taken out of the balloons at my pity party.)

Are you aware I’m turing 30 in just over a month? Can you hear the screams of terror from here? This morning SexyHusband suggested a pick-me-up visit to a hair salon to get my do did. At first I was befuddled to think what on earth I’d need - I usually wait 9 months or more between haircuts/color and I usually look like a homeless person by then, so ANYthing is a improvement. But I just got my hair cut before I moved and I’m not creepy looking yet. So it occured to me that I my color needs a change (went red last time, considering blonde this time) and I saw this band play on Yo Gabba Gabba yesterday and … could I rock the lead singer’s color? Because I’m seriously considering it… I can pull it off, right? I mean, it’s not like I’m 30 or anything… YET. (the video won’t embed - it’s adorable though, I recommend clicking it anyway. Here’s a screenshot of the lady: … I also want her flipping outfit - I have the shoes, now I need to find the dress and some orange tights…)

I made that, by the way.  Yeah.  Cool, huh?

The reason some girls stay single.

(via audreyhepburncomplex)

The story is this:  a girl was out with friends having drinks on King St (in Toronto ).  This guy approaches her and won’t leave her alone -saying how cute she is. She finally gives in  and hands the guy her business card to get rid of him. The attached  is an MP3 file of not one, but TWO voicemails this guy left. This goes down  in the history books - especially the second voice mail. 
After hearing them you can clearly see why she didn’t call him back - instead  she called in to the Z103.5 morning show & had them play this on the air. 
Ladies: He is out there… :) 

GPOYW

pick pick

(image circa 2005)

My husband is the pickiest person I know.  I hate cooking for him because he’s so picky.  Making any decision is tough because I need to run it past him just to see if his supreme pickiness is okay with it.  Because he’s is so dang picky.  I come from a No Picky Eaters In Our House house, with a side of You’ll Take It And You’ll Like It.  I mean, I have my opinions, but holy CRAP he’s picky.

But you know what the cool part is?  Mr. Supreme Pickiness is so dang picky about everything and yet - he picked ME.  When I get down, I stop and remember that.  All the gals that weren’t good enough, not just right, whatever, but I was.

That makes me feel pretty dang cool.