My Project

It sucks being a match-maker.  I can't help it, but I'm always trying to match my single friends.  I have two successful marriages for which I can take full credit.  At one of the weddings, the preacher even called me out during the ceremony! 

It's a curse though.  Recently, I've been trying to find a match for an old high school friend.  I thought it would be so easy.  I know him so well and since I was a 13 year old kid.  He's a decent and loyal person and he's even very handsome with a perfect jaw line, straight white teeth, greying blond hair and he weighs exactly the same as he did in high school.  A total "boy scout," he's never even smoked a joint, he played football at a major university and he happens to be a bone fide oil mogul with more money than he could ever spend...

So...apparently he somehow comes off too desperate for love.  I mean, he's looking hard.  I'm introducing him to beautiful, successful women who don't "need" a man, but who seek the companionship of one and they see the needy, insecure side of this almost perfect guy before the first course is served.  

What do I do with that?  I can't just throw him out there to the desperate girls.  That wouldn't be good for either of them.  Do I send him to a counselor?  He wants it to happen for him yesterday and so do I, but I want to be careful with him at the same time because I've known him for so long and I know it all comes from a good place.  He seriously seems defeated and outright depressed when a girl won't return his calls.  The girls are nice enough about it I guess, but just like, "um, no thank you."

This one is a challenge and I'm like the Roman gladiator at the coliseum of love. 

Let Them Eat Cereal

I've had it with my picky eaters.  I'm done trying.  If it were up to them we would have spaghetti five nights a week and tacos the other two.

We have one of those wooden message signs in our kitchen which reads, "Menu: eat it or starve."  I'll admit I bought it just because I thought it was cute, but now I really mean it...and meanly.

Basically every time I cook something that I think the entire family will enjoy, the kids turn up their noses and harrumph and whine until I dump the contents of their plates into the trash and either quickly fix yet another dish while my plate gets cold or point to the fridge and say "cereal."

For example, last night I made a simple meatloaf, cornbread stuffing and sweet potatoes.  And the thing is, they have eaten meatloaf plenty of times.  Same goes for stuffing, I mean what kid isn't down with stuffing?  But Noooooooooo, neither kid liked any of the stuff I'd prepared.  They elected instead to have Honey Nut Cheerios.  I wanted to scream.

I'm so tired of fixing "kid food" like macaroni and cheese and lasagna.  Uhg!  There was one night recently when I had fixed a nice dinner of my husband's favorite "pork chops and cabbage" with some fresh snapped green beans on the side.  The kids of course "tried it" and unceremoniously spit it back out onto their plates.  I then desperately made quickie mac and cheese for the boy and scrambled eggs for the girl, thereby dirtying at least four more dishes.  Fun.  It would be nice to be able to prepare only a couple of things for dinner and have some variety there throughout the week.

I don't buy chips or sodas or even ice cream...ever.  We do however always have plenty of breakfast cereals and toaster waffles on hand.  "Easy and quick" is definitely on the morning menu in this house.  Basically due to that being the only "junk" food ever available, the kids end up having cereal for dinner many times during the week when they "dis" my dinners.  Serves them right I say.  I'm done feeling guilty about that.

New motto in the Staglik household: "eat it or starve" (or eat cereal for dinner)!  It not just a decorative piece of art anymore.

And My Kitchen Stayed Clean

Thanksgiving was a great success!  No one cooked and no one cleaned up.

This was the second year in a row our small family decided to go "out" for Thanksgiving and it is our favorite new "tradition" going forward.  Yesterday we had a private room at one of the city's most critically acclaimed restaurants with great service, incredible food, and flowing Cakebread for over three hours!

The highlight of the day was when our NYC-dwelling niece appeared as a server, water pitcher in hand, to surprise her parents and grandma!  It made me cry it was so exciting.  We got it on video and we all watched it over and over again.

Although I love seeing all of our extended family, I also dread the "work" that goes into it, the preparation, the cooking, the cleaning and how it takes hours and even days to prepare for a feast that lasts thirty minutes tops.  I just have to be in a certain mood and moody as I am, I haven't seen that mood for sometime.

I hope this preference towards Thanksgiving reservations isn't setting a bad precedent for our kids.  I mean, we all grew up relegated to the "kid's table" and family all around and now I'm teaching my kids to sit quietly and order from a menu or fill their plates from the brunch buffet.  I would offer though that the time spent with the kids is more quality time, since I'm not distracted with food preparation and details.  Plus, it's so nice with the kids a bit older now and able to cut their own meat for example.  These are the best years.  They are generally well behaved, interesting, clever, polite and conversant young people at the dinner table and did I mention no one has to clean up afterwards.

Yes. This is how our clan rolls.  ...and a good time was had by all.

The Buck Stops Here

I saw this on Pinterest and it rings true to a point of severe annoyance:

"People won't remember all the times you helped them, but they'll never forget the one time you don't."

I don't know who said it and it's loosely paraphrased I suppose but it encapsulates a lesson I'm still learning about my need to "rescue" people.  Why is it that when I help and help and help (ad nauseam) someone in both small ways and with the really HUGE stuff, it always goes due South at whatever point I pull back...even a little??

The latest lesson I'm learning is from a college student who in all likelihood will be academically dismissed at the end of this semester, especially at the rate they're going.

We had a deal though.  I thought it was clear and reasonable:  you make good grades, work hard, and take school seriously and we'll help you.  After two consecutive semesters of constant partying, indignant alcohol consumption and utterly dismal grades, isn't it safe to say their end of the bargain wasn't honored?

So I've throttled back.  Significantly and with ample warning but now I'm the bitch who "does nothing" to assist.  Makes sense.

Don't worry, we'll keep paying for your cell phone and I'll continue to send you grocery gift cards when I can.  No.  Don't count that as helping, really.  Just keep telling everyone how you're "on your own."  And when you get kicked out of school in December, you can commemorate it with another tattoo.  Classy.

It sucks to see potential in someone and have reasonable expectations for them.  It sucks too to see someone idolize and emulate low-achieving losers and find pride and fulfillment in how fast they can complete a keg stand two nights in a row.  Did I mention classy?

This is "enabler" signing off.

Big Bad Wolf III

Unbelievable.  Seriously.

My 78 year old uncle was arrested AGAIN over the weekend, this time in Bienville Parish, for another slew of methamphetamine charges.

OMG, as he is out on bond number two for the baker's dozen or so drug charges from December and March...  Maybe now, they'll keep him jail?  Ya think??

I don't get it. His arrogance is confounding.

Please Louisiana justice, do it right this time.  I mean, what does it take??  This time they're even charging him with DISTRIBUTION!

Maybe my sorry uncle is a big Breaking Bad fan, trying to channel the Brian Cranston character...nah...Cranston doesn't get caught ever, much less three times in ten months.

Pining for Pinehurst

OK, so I'm no geography expert but I always thought of North Carolina as so...well, NORTH.  I mean it is an East coast state and it's pretty far from South Texas.  We just returned from a trip there and it seriously felt like home.

I'm such a sucker for a giant front porch and rocking chairs and this resort had more square footage on their many expansive porches than we do in both our house and the lake house combined!  And never have I seen more rocking chairs.  Ever.  Also, everybody had an accent not totally unlike ours and there was cornbread at every meal.  Southern.  How is it that it takes two airplanes headed NE to still be surrounded by Southern hospitality and grits??

I really enjoyed myself.  I could sit on the porch for hours...wait.  We did.  I have to say though, a mint julep is still just too much for me though.

The highlight of the trip and really the main purpose was when my husband took my son to play the very famous Pinehurst #2 course.  It's the Ryder Cup course for God's sake and they got to play it!  I'll have you know, that not a single bit of photographic evidence did my husband remember to preserve!  Really??

And as a side bar, I'm reminded of an old Rosie O'Donnell joke.  "Golf is not a sport.  Golf is men in ugly pants walking."

Good Guys Come From New Jersey

So I jumped out of a cab in lower Manhattan and leisurely entered my hotel room at Washington Park.  I sat down, took off my shoes and proceeded to fish my cell phone out of my purse to check for missed calls or messages.

IT WASN'T THERE.

"OMG, where's my phone??  It's gotta be in here, pockets??  Where is it...the cab...I checked for texts when I first got in the cab!  Why didn't I write down the cab?  Who really remembers to do that, seriously?? "

My heart began to pound and I suddenly realized it was true.  My phone just drove off in one of how many thousands of cabs in NYC?  I grabbed my husband's phone and immediately began calling my own.  I knew the ringer was on the loudest setting and my husband's number comes up with little red hearts so I figured anyone who spotted that incoming call would know it was an important contact.

My husband was freaking more than me of course because it was hitting him that not only was my iPhone 4S in this taxi, it was nestled in one of those snap-type phone cases with my Visa, my Texas driver's license and my gas card.  Yup.  It was all there, and as the time ticked by it was tough knowing that likely ten more people were in and out of that cab by now, as the 30 minute mark came and went.

And then finally, after probably 50+ repeated calls from my husband's phone, someone answered!!  "Is this your phone?" the man's voice said.  "Yes! Oh my gosh, where are you, I'll come to you."

What followed over the next three hours, restored my general faith in humanity.

The guy sounded like he was walking fast and in a hurry.  Really?  In NYC, crAZy.  It was almost noon and the guy was explaining how he couldn't meet me until 3:00pm because he was late to a meeting.  He gave me an address in midtown, told me he'd meet me there in three hours, his name was Joe, he was wearing a grey suit and then he hung up.  GASP!

Although I had an instantly good vibe from the guy, after the call ended, I started to get REALLY paranoid.  What if it was some brilliant ruse to have full-on access to my Visa for three uninterrupted hours.

Needless to say, it was a very long three hours.

We ended up going to the address he gave a full hour early to check it out and see if it even was an actual place.  Turns out it was a big, modern office building with a spacious lobby so we just decided to get comfortable and wait.

In the mean time and out of severe and increasing paranoia, I "killed" my Visa just to be safe, though the Visa rep did confirm there had been no charges.

Then at 2:50, I called my phone.  No answer.

At 2:55, I called again.  No answer.

At 3:00, I called again.  No answer.

At 3:05, I called again.  No answer.

At this point, I commented to my husband that we may have just been had.  Just then I spotted a tall guy in a dark suit exiting the building and hanging out of his leather portfolio, I glimpsed the red leather wrist strap of my phone case.

I yelled, "JOE!"

He turned around and said, "Tara."

Whoo Hoo!  He WAS a good guy.  He really DID have a meeting!  I'm getting my phone back!

I couldn't help myself, I was jumping up and down and I bear-hugged him before I even knew I was going to.  He wouldn't take any "thank you" money from my husband.  I told him that his mom must be very proud of him and then said something like, "you must be from the South!"  He laughed and said, "What?  Nice guys can't come from New Jersey?"

It was decidedly a Summer miracle on 34th street.  And, nice guys do come from Jersey.

Insomnia Nonsense at 3am

Insomnia is a funny thing. In four and a half hours I have our monthly "Walk-n-Roll" morning at my daughter's school followed by an absolute jam-packed, back to back day filled with busy errand-type stuff ranging from meeting the pest control guy to showing somebody a condo we're trying to sell.

And I'm wide awake like I just ate a snickers and drank a triple grande white mocha.

As I'm writing, I'm trying to remind myself that this doesn't happen to me very often, so I feel especially bad for folks I know who fight this all the time.

I really don't know what to do with myself. I can't be loud. I can't do anything in the front room where there aren't even curtains. I can't go in the office since it's recently become the dog's bedroom and God knows I don't want them bouncing off the walls.

I guess insomniacs are supposed to just sit here and think, or continue to lay in bed and think.

Stuff on mind at 3am includes:

the new business my husband just started with my bff's husband,

some school bullsh!t at my daughter's school,

my ever-growing a$$,

how I might re-arrange some furniture in the front room,

remembering to order a glass table-topper for our dining room table,

hoping I can remember that my daughter has early dismissal today,

contemplating the very cool birthday night out I'm planning for my cool niece's upcoming birthday,

stressing on the fact that I'm in over my head as a "campaign manager" for my sweet brother-in-law and his Leukemia Lymphoma Society's "Man of the Year" bid,

trying to remember the very safe place I put the key to the condo I have to show later today, wondering why I agreed to let my friend who's just starting her new Mary Kay business to come over today of all days to give me a "facial,"

afraid my little boy is never going to break out of his super-sensitivity and ever just "shake it off" like I always tell him to,

still freaking out that it costs $100 to fill up my tank,

wondering how I'm going to get my mom's ipad back to her today with all my other stuff today,

remembering just now that my girlfriend needs to leave for Houston super early so she'll be bringing her little boy over here at 5am tomorrow morning when I probably will be sleeping,

and wondering why anyone would find my endless and relatively meaningless rants the least bit interesting. (oh yeah, no one does...)

How might I use this insomnia wisely, for fighting the forces of evil and sh!t?? ...but NOT wake up anyone (or dog) in my house??

DVR is the answer. I recorded GCB and the Housewives of course. Time to waste my alertness on nonsense. God help everyone who has the great misfortune to cross my path throughout this quickly developing day.

Big Bad Wolf In Da Crib Y'all, The Sequel

I'm stunned that I'm stunned at the news yesterday afternoon that once again, my CRAZY-A$$ uncle was arrested on like six more, count 'em, six more felony drug counts.

This of course, while he's out on bond and awaiting trial on the first baker's dozen of felony drug counts.

That would be three months ago folks!

And he just kept right on doing the CRAZY-A$$ stuff in my grandparent's house, arrogant and invincible as ever.

If you haven't read my post by this same title from December, you need to read it real fast. My uncle is pushing 80! He's like thirty years OLDER than the Brian Cranston character on AMC's Breaking Bad, which in my opinion is seriously one of best shows on television.

So, Uncle Jimmy's bond is now set at over $1,000,000.00...so far. Turns out, your bond gets set a little high when your already out on bond and pull the same SH!T...who knew?

Welcome to Jackson Parish, ladies and gentlemen...

The 'Ole Crawl-over

To the ass who parked on top of me in the Central Market parking lot:

You suck. How could you NOT notice you were like three feet over your right-side parking space line? Just so you know, I couldn't even get to my drivers side door, much less open it up.

Did I mention you suck?

After I loaded my groceries into the back of my perfectly parked SUV I stomped around both our cars for a good five minutes or so, just daring you to come out. Finally I reached in my glove box, from the passenger side, to retrieve a leftover Valentine card. However, a love note I did not proceed to write.

After I rammed your Valentine underneath your driver's side windshield wiper blade, I went back around my car and began the very arduous process of ungracefully crawling over the center console into the driver's seat. Seriously, you really suck.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed my little note and perhaps even take its advice.

And as an after thought following a brief cooling-off period, I no longer "hope you lose a limb." That's just mean, but you still SUCK!

Very Famous People

So, we ran into these nice folks...who were NOT in costume...at a gas station...on a road trip...with my mom and daughter...on a Sunday afternoon...in the middle of nowhere...

That look on my daughter's face we later learned was her holding her breath. She described them as smelling like CABBAGE!

We had simply stopped to fuel up at this random gas station and my mom went inside for a potty break. You'd have to really know her, but after a couple of minutes, my 78 year old mother comes practically running out of the station, motioning wildly. "Get your camera!" "You've gotta see these people!" (in between uncontrollable giggling) "Hurry, Tara, where's your camera!"

I quickly poised my camera from inside my truck, waiting for them to come out and my mom was like, "NO honey, you gotta go INSIDE and get a GOOD picture!"

So...she sends my daughter and me inside and I'm trying to be all stealthy with the camera, like I'm pretending to inspect a Ruffles label, when the lady TOTALLY pegs me and says: "Oh, sweetie, do you want your picture taken with us?? We're VERY famous. We'd love to take a picture with you, don't be shy."

And...the next thing I did probably reveals far too much about my mothering instincts, because I totally pushed my unsuspecting daughter into the frame so as to get the "GOOD" photo my fun-loving mom had demanded. Like a tetanus shot, the whole experience only lasted a few seconds and we felt pretty good afterwards.

The couple was really friendly and the lady did give me some good intel on who she was as she explained how "very famous" they were.

I would encourage both of my blog readers (if I have that many by now) to search "flash jordan Austin city lights" on YouTube and you too can experience these nice folks, minus the smell of cabbage.

Belated Valentine

Dang it, but I meant to post this on Valentine's!

We rarely do fast food, but we were particularly busy on Valentine's day so we stopped at Chik-Filet (spelling?) after school where they serve these yummy waffle fries and this was my surprise.

Pretty cool, huh.

Juicy Valentine?

Seriously, WTH??

If you know about the clothing brand Juicy Couture, then you know it's generally targeted toward teenagers and young adults. That said, they do make some awfully cute clothes for little girls and babies too and I have been guilty of buying a few pieces for my daughter here and there. I've justified these purchases based on cuteness alone, plus the fact that I DON'T buy her any of the items with "JUICY" written across the ass of the pants, or any of the suggestive t-shirts, etc...

So as an occasional Juicy purchaser, how can this particular Valentine bug me SO MUCH?? My son is clueless of course, but I found it while I was rifling through his candy hunting for just one more mini Twix.

Color me paradox, I know, I know...

It's one thing to buy a few items of clothing for a little girl who has no idea what brand she's wearing but it's another thing entirely when a 4th grade little girl directly gives the very innuendo of the brand to MY son!

Wait. Isn't it even worse for the mom to buy these Valentines for her little girl to give to the little 4th grade boys...at a private Christian school no less?

I'll bet they cost a small fortune too. I will be avoiding this brand all together, at least in the near future, so that my eventual 4th grade daughter won't be asking me to buy her these Valentines some day. That would be the point at which I would really have to explain the paradox and I'm just not prepared to do that.

It's kinda like the whole Victoria's Secret "Pink" line, though Juicy was first with the whole, write-it-across-your-butt thing. Still, "pink" and "juicy" should be reserved for my burger, not my daughter's or my son's girlfriend's ass.

"Opportunity"

"Opportunity?" My daughter's tiny voice from the back seat... She WAS paying attention!

On the drive home from a nice dinner out in a nearby town, my 11 year-old son was telling my friend and I about this girl in his class and how she talks funny. He continued, "...and sometimes if it's a big word like...well...somebody say a big word??"

Without a second's hesitation, the 7 year-old piped in with "opportunity" and we all fell apart laughing and impressed at her quick wit. "Good one," my son said.

That's the thing about my daughter, she hears everything, even when I think she's nodded out or uninterested... It's gotten me in trouble, A LOT actually.

I'd like to take this opportunity to give a shout-out to my precocious little 7 year-old and her impetuous responsiveness.

Missed The Fever

I need a new thermometer.

Mom of the year (once again).

My 11 year old tells me he doesn't feel good. He's a tough one to deal with when he's sick...like most men. I took his temperature, but he didn't have any fever. I had to admit he felt pretty warm, but I took it several times so I was unconvinced.

I FORCED him to get dressed anyway and it is dress uniform day, so this was an especially tall order. I then MADE him eat breakfast. I did at least give him a Claritan, jeez!

It was right about then that he barfed.

...We just got home from the doctor and it's strep throat. Doc says he's one of those rare kids who presents for strep with an upset stomach, not the typical sore throat.

And, ya, it turns out he was running a fever of 102.

Is That The Sound of Groceries?

OK, so I know I've gushed about my grocery store before and all, but focus on the center of this photo and you'll see just another reason why I love it.

Yep, it's live music, right there in the middle of the store! Seriously, how cool is that!

They have it on Sundays and it's like a neighborhood block party in there and the sample stations, oh there is something yummy to sample about every ten feet.

I see one couple in there almost every sunday and they always sneak in their own personal Bloody Mary or Mimosa and they don't even grocery shop that day--they just roam around eating and visiting with their drink from home in their hand. It's so cute.

Onward grocery shoppers! To the "cheesey" department I've now taken my gushing.

Revenge of the Hummus

So I put hummus in some rude kid's shoe.

That's right, I had a huge scoop of hummus on my pita chip and I shoved in way up in this kid's sneaker at the roller rink.

He deserved it and much worse I assure you. He crushed my friend's child's slushy and not only did he not offer even a hint of an apology, he didn't even try to help clean it up or acknowledge her in any way. It was like he was spaced out, although I couldn't really see with all the stringy hair in his eyes.

We were at the rink with all our kids and he came in and sat four feet from my friend on the same long bench. Little Jackson's brand new blue slushy had been sitting there for all of two minutes when the kid just plopped down on it with a super loud "POP" heard over the blaring Maroon Five song. Everybody within a ten foot radius turned to look, but the kid whose ass landed on it acted as it nothing happened. Rude.

He was exactly the kind of under-acheiving, dirty-looking, impolite and clueless kind of loser jerky boy I'm trying to raise my kid to be the opposite of. My friend and I were stunned at the degree of his non-reaction.

I mean, she spoke very clearly to the boy and when I say clearly I mean it. My friend happens to be the local news anchor in our town and she has one of those voices that people listen to and really hear. She enunciates. She said: "Excuse me, that was my son's drink," but Darwin with the saggy britches didn't even make eye contact. He continued removing his very nice high-tops, laced up his roller skates and hit the wood without so much as a look back toward us old ladies or the ten year old silently lamenting his blue slushy.

After my friend cleaned up the blue dye #6 and threw away the crushed styrofoam, we sat there sipping our smuggled-in red wine and eating our secret hummus. We're stealthy, crazy rule-breakers, sneaking in decent snacks like that...we're bad, we're bad, we're bad, we're really bad.

As I looked down at the giant scoop of hummus I was about to eat, the payback hit me. Right took over. I suddenly stood up, and as I walked past the shoes, I shoved the loaded chip way down into the shoe without even breaking stride. I could hear my friend's booming laugh but I just kept walking toward the restrooms with a smile bigger than Dallas creeping across my face. I was very proud of myself.

It felt good. I wish we could've stayed around to see the winner of a kid shove his foot into the oozy tan mush, but we left during the Hokey Pokey. I hope he thinks it's cat poop.

Jerk.

Needless Markup, Marked Way Down

It's gotta be the least amount of money ever spent at Neiman Marcus in the history of the world.

I met some friends for lunch at the restaurant and on the way out I saw the left-over Dylan's Candy Bar gingerbread house kits.

The kids and I have a big gingerbread tradition and I usually buy the $25 ready to go house at Central Market, but by the time I buy all the candy pieces and icing and stuff to go with it, I end up spending probably $50!

This one has EVERYTHING in the box already and it's good looking stuff! I'm so excited that we had a ton of room in one of the garage freezers because that is where the gingerbread house will stay until the kids get out for Christmas break 2012.

A bargain can happen anywhere folks...even among Mackenzie Childs and Chanel.