Holy Saturday, Batman!

Today we had a neighborhood yard sale. Someone else organized it and promoted it and all I had to do was open my garage and put out a bunch of stuff to sell. Easy Peasy, right?

Wrong.

I found more junk in my basement than I expected to have. I just kept pulling things out. It needed to be done, really, but man, am I tired and sore because of it.

Today was the sale. We had gorgeous weather and a great turnout. We made $178, which is nothing to sneeze at. Nice chunk of change.

The best part was spending 5 hours with my daughter. My husband took the little ones to his mom's on Friday night so they'd be out of my hair today. My 7 year-old spent most of his time playing computer games, then realized he was all alone inside the house and came out to sit with us.

From 7:15 (!) a.m. until about 11 am it was just me and Camryn minding the store. We had fun selling our junk, watching the people come and go, and just talking and laughing together. If our relationship survives the teen years, I suspect we'll be very good friends we she grows up. I really enjoy being in her company, 'cause she be a funny girl!

When it was over and I was packing up the stuff to take to the Goodwill, the UPS man pulled up in front of my house. Unusual to see the man in brown on a Saturday, but there he was. He was a nice lookin' man in brown, too.

He brought me a box and wished me a Happy Mother's Day.

The box was from 1-800 flowers. I thought, "Aw! My hubby sent me flowers!"

Then I opened the box and saw these:



and I read this:



Those gorgeous tulips were a gift from my younger sister. I was floored.

I was so touched, because I don't think she's ever given me a gift for Mother's Day. I didn't expect one.

But I love it. I love that she took the time to send them to me. I love tulips. LOVE them.

Thanks, Neener. You really made my day.

When I'm old and in an apartment, I will remember this day

My maternal grandmother is currently in a nursing home. She has Alzheimer's disease.

When my kids go to visit my grandmother, they say they're going to Mama Dos' "apartment". To my children, needing an apartment has become synonymous with being forgetful. If I forget where I last put my keys or I call a child by the wrong name, someone will inevitably yell, "Mommy! You need an apartment!"

Thus the title of this entry. When I am old, and I have my own apartment, I know I will still remember every little thing about Saturday, November 3. It was that perfect.

Ever since she was small, my older daughter has known how to yell, "WAR EAGLE!" at the top of her lungs. Granted, when she was too young to say it properly, the phrase sounded more like "GO WIGGLES!" but we knew what she meant.

"War Eagle" is what fans of the Auburn University tigers yell in support of their team. My husband likened it to a secret password kind of thing. Eh. He doesn't get football, but he's kinda right about that. In the state of Alabama, you either yell "War Eagle!" or "Roll Tide". It's one of the things you learn from the time you're born. You're either a Tiger or a Tider.

My family is made up of Tigers. It's in our blood. We love us some Auburn football. We start 'em out young!



I haven't visited Auburn since I was in my 20s. When I found out that the homecoming game was November 3, though, I jumped on the chance to go. It was serendipity. We just happened to be planning on a trip to Birmingham that weekend. I couldn't NOT go.

Early Saturday morning my daughter, sister and I started our trek to the loveliest village on the Plains. My daughter was beside herself with excitement. She wasn't the only one; I couldn't wait to share this part of my life with her.

We arrived in Auburn around 11:30. Parked near Samford Hall, which isn't far from the stadium. Won't tell you what we paid for parking, but it was worth every penny to be so close to everything we wanted to do.

Here we are, fresh from the car and ready for adventure:



We walked down College Street and got our picture made in front of the Auburn University sign:

Then for the good stuff (lunch and shopping at the legendary Toomer's Drugstore. They're famous for their lemonade, which is DEE-LISH!)

We entered the stadium at gate 1 and walked up a short ramp. I could feel Camryn's excitement building. She was literally jumping up and down with glee. This was her first glimpse of my favorite college stadium in the universe:

The weather was perfect. Not a cloud in the sky. Gorgeous blue backdrop. Perfect seats. A gorgeous, sunny Alabama football Saturday. Heaven. Absolute heaven. But it gets better.

I heard "Ladies and gentlemen.... please direct your attention to..." and I turned to my left. I saw Auburn's mascot, War Eagle, getting ready to leave her cage to circle the field. I snapped the lens cover off of my camera and turned in on in time to get this shot. I thought I had missed, but when I got home and was looking through the photos, I was thrilled to see that I had captured her flight!

Here's my beauty, watching her first college football game unfold before her eyes:



Auburn played less than spectacularly, but they were ahead 21-3 at halftime. They went on to win 35-3, but I've seen better defense. Hmph.



Camryn started feeling sick right before the 2nd half was over, so we agreed to watch the band play and then leave. I just love marching bands.



Camryn wore herself out and fell asleep in the car on the way home.


Even though we had to leave early, the day was just awesome. I cannot remember when I've had as much fun as I did on Saturday. I can't wait until my boys are old enough to go.

War Eagle, y'all.

Seven Days Without Spa Treatments Makes One Weak

One week ago today I was in the middle of a 90-minute deep tissue massage administered by the best masseuse I've ever had. Her name is Antoinette, and she's a well-kept secret. She could knead the lumps out of a knotty pine log. She's that good.

Seriously?

Seriously.

I've had deep tissue massages before, and afterwards I could barely get up off the table because I was so sore. 'Twasn't the case with Antoinette. I practically sprung off the table; my shoulders have never felt so tension free! All hail Antoinette! (I have committed to myself and to my husband that when school starts back up, I will be signing up for a regular monthly massage. He even noticed a difference in my back muscles when he rubbed my back the next morning.)

I guess I should explain where I was last week.

For Mother's Day I received a pre-paid spa day from my wonderful husband. When I told my sister that's what I got, she wanted to tag along (spas *are* more funner with friends or sisters!) So we signed up for a day of pampering. Needless to say, when it was all over, I wanted to move in and live at the spa.

(Children? I have children? I don't remember having any children! Go home? But THIS IS MY HOME! )

The massage was great. It was my favorite thing of the day (I shoulda probably asked to have it last...) but the Creme de la Creme facial was good, too. My skin felt as smooth as the proverbial baby's rear end when it was over. It would've been a more enjoyable experience had the "aesthetist" (as she was called) kept her trap shut during the process. The calming sounds of crickets and ocean waves were continuously interrupted by chit chat about the boyfriend, Chaz. Aesthetist and Chaz have dated, like, for four, like, years (since, like, high school) and they, like, know they, like, want to name their, like, kids, like, Grey and, like, Mallory.

LIKE, WHAT.EVER. She LIKE needed LIKE a mute button.

After our morning treatments, we were served a great lunch in the most beautiful room I've ever parked my tush in. The walls were painted in large horizontal stripes of white and off-white (which wasn't annoying as stripes can be); the curtains were a creamy white that matched the couches and large armchairs, and there was a small dining table set up near the windows. They call it the bride's room, 'cause that's where they host brides and bridesmaids that come to the spa to get pampered before the ceremony. It was absolutely luscious. I'd put a white room just like it in my house if I could guarantee it would stay white, but here, where yogurt becomes finger paint, I don't see that happening.

My sister and I went our separate ways after we ate. She got a "pampered spa pedicure" ("designed to put a little relaxation into your day. Aromatherapy bath salts, an exfoliating scrub, masques treatment and a warm paraffin treatment will condition your feet. Luxurious moisturizing massage energizes feet and soothes skin. Finish with your favorite nail color. While relaxing enjoy a complimentary glass of champagne, wine or hot tea.) Sounds nice, no?

I got to go see Raul for a haircut and color. I hadn't had either since November, and I was starting to look like a skunk with the grey hairs lining my part. Raul cleaned up the cut I'd given myself a few days prior (I put my hair in a ponytail and chopped off a good bit of it). I feel like a million bucks (well, maybe just a million pesos).

I will definitely go back to Victoria Place Salon & Spa. The girls there are not judgmental (well, they *might* be, but it doesn't show in the way they talk to you). I've been to spas before where they take one look at (overweight, stay-at-home mom, middle-income, Target clothing-clad) me and decide I'm not like one of their "usual" clients, and they spend the rest of the day looking down on me. I've also been to spas where the robe they gave me barely covered my nether regions, but Victoria Place had the best robes that actually covered most of me. I felt comfy walking around in it all day long, and I didn't have to constantly clutch and grab to keep myself covered.

It was a splendid experience, and I can't wait to repeat it. I'm thinking I really need a new holiday to celebrate so I can get another spa gift.

How about...

Happiness Happens Day (August 8)?
Best Friends Day (August 15)?
National Relaxation Day (August 15)?
Wonderful Weirdos Day (September 9)?
Wife Appreciation Day (September 15)?

Oh, no... I have it... I'll celebrate International Day for the Preservation of the Ozone Layer (August 16).

Al Gore would be so proud!

Guess What?!?

My sister is coming! My sister is coming!

I have not seen my sister since Christmas Day. (Have we ever gone that long without seeing each other, Brooke?)

She's coming to visit for a few days in May. Her visit will coincide with Mother's Day, and I can't think of a better visit than a weekend with my sister. Really.

I came up with a brilliant plan for Mother's Day. I'll have an early brunch with my husband, kids and sister at Embassy Suites or Italian Market. Then, my husband will take the kids to his mother's for the day and my sister and I will hang out together without the kids! That sounds like the perfect day to me. I want to see a movie and go shopping somewhere that I wouldn't go if the kids were with me. Kirkland's? TJ Maxx? Who knows. I foresee lots of spending whereever I go, though. It's been so long since I had a girls' day with a grown-up girl!

Did I tell you my sister is coming?

I can't wait!

Sista Souljah

I talked to my sister Brooke last night. She's a little bit down. A stoopid boy broke her heart.

He has to be an idiot. I know she love(d?) (s?) him, but any boy who would break up with my sister is a fool. Stoopid, stoopid boy. And yeah, I know I'm not spelling stupid right. STOOPID is a higher level of STUPID.

My sister is smart. She's beautiful. She's wicked funny. If I was a man, I'd wanna date her.

Foolish, foolish boy. I hope your new Barbie doll has some sort of sexually transmitted disease. Or, better yet, finds out she likes Midge dolls better than Ken dolls.

My sister is younger than me, but I always made her do the scary stuff when we were kids. She always had to go downstairs and turn off the basement light. I always made HER go into the closet where the breaker box was to turn off the pool pump (I was too scared of the camel crickets...wouldn't you be?!?) Brooke always took the blame for stuff, too. (Um, sorry 'bout that, Neener.)

My sister is the one that whispered and giggled with me in the darkness, under those heavy quilts in our double bed. She's the one who would touch her popsicle toes to my leg at night to hear me yelp. My sister was also my accomplice one year when we took 2 small boxes out from under the Christmas tree and hid in our closet to open them weeks before Christmas. And she is the one I missed terribly when I moved into my own room the summer before 6th grade. I missed her so bad I cried myself to sleep every night for a week, even though it was MY decision to change rooms.

My sister has laughed with (and at) me, cried with me, yelled at me and counselled me throughout the years. She's the best sister in the world. There are days when I crave her company. C-R-A-V-E it like chocolate.

My sister has done was I was too chicken to do. She pursued a career. She got her master's degree and uses it to do a job she loves. She helps people on a daily basis, and she enjoys it.

I took the easy way out of life by getting married and having a family. I was too afraid to pursue a dream. I chose the security of a marriage and family over the fear of figuring out what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I settled.

My sister soared.

And yet, she tells me she's jealous of my life. If only she knew how envious I am of her solitude. Her serenity. Her freedom.

*I* am the one that envies her. She's got it going on, y'all. One day, ONE DAY, some not-so-stoopid boy will discover the hidden treasure that is my sister, my neener, my bestest friend. And she'll be his. And I'm afraid she won't need me anymore.

And then what will I do?

I was thinking just today
About how we used to play
Baby dolls and make-up
Tea parties, dress up
I remember how we'd fight
We made up and laughed all night
Wish we were kids again
My sister, my friend