See You In The Funny Papers

They let me PERFORM today!

Nay They ASKED me to perform today.  At church...

YES! YES! YES!

Oh how I LOVE to be silly in front of The People!  I DO so enjoy making a fool of myself via song and dance and theatrics!

And TODAY I was able to do JUST THAT!  Minus the song and dance... so... THEATRICS... for the children.

I was asked to be a character from another country.  I was to be one of a panel of three judges.  I was to judge singing children on their delivery of the Primary songs for the upcoming Big Deal Children Singing In Church In Front Of Their Parents Performance.

The country I chose to represent was The Wild West.

I wore my trusty cowgirl boots and hat.  I wore a fringed leather vest and my best generic cowgirl accent.

I was... I'm not going to feign humility here... AMAZING!!

I WAS A STAR!!!!  All the children said so... Some smiled shyly at me... Some asked for my autograph... Some posted my picture on Facebook as their profile photo...

Today at church I whooped and hollered.  I YEEEHAWWED and TARNATIONED.  I CUTE AS A BUG IN A RUGGED and  WAITED A COTTON PICKIN' MINUTE...

I did all that...

And when it was all said and done I felt durn good.  I felt full.  Happy.  Fulfilled.

Then I felt strangely deflated...

I have missed my calling, ya'll.

I was supposed to be an ENTERTAINER FOR THE MASSES!  I was SUPPOSED to sing and dance and lie on every stage in America and maybe every stage in world and even Canada and Russia!

Sure, I chose a Cowgirl Character with a hick accent today.   But I COULD have chosen to play an English Nanny, A Mexican Senorita, A German House Frau, A French Maid, A Desperate Housewife, Snooky ...

I can DO all those accents!  And plus I can sing a little and dance  A LOT!

All I want in life is to make people smile.

So I have decided to move to L.A.

That's right.  I'm going to follow MY dreams for a change!

I'm going to gather my children and husband together and say,

"Look.  I'm no spring chicken here.  I'm 35.  If I don't go to Hollywood NOW I will NEVER have a chance to be a big star.  And it will be YOUR fault.  It's your fault I'm not J. Lo as it is.  Don't worry.  I forgive you...  Now pack your crap..."


My husband may protest but when I remind him of all I have done for him over the years, all the sacrifices I have made on his behalf, all the meals I have cooked, all the money I have not spent, all the children I have birthed that look like him... he will have no choice...


We will pack our things and I will be A STAR!  MY NAME WILL BE A COMMON HOUSEHOLD ITEM.  LIKE SWIFFER.  OR BOLOGNA!

You just WAIT!

See you in the funny papers, ya'll.

The Evil Spirit Teaches You Not To Pray In The Forever 21.

I prayed as I entered the Forever 21 today.  I prayed a real actual prayer.

In the immortal words of MC Hammer, (that's word) We pray... we got to pray just to make it today...


Amen, people.  It's HAMMER TIME!

So I prayed as follows:

"Please help me find school clothes for these girls.  Help me stay in my budget and find things that will make them happy.  Help me to be patient....  Oooo that's a cute skirt...I wonder if they have it my size... um... sorry, Lord.  Let Thy spirit be with me today in all I do..."


I try to pray always and not faint. Just like the scriptures say.


Matthew 7:7 says, "Ask and it shall be given unto you; Seek and ye shall find ..."   


Today I was seeking school clothes.  Why not ask for help from a higher power?  I wasn't gonna be able to find super cute deals and steals for both my girls without divine intervention, now was I?  No.  No I wasn't.  That's the truth of the matter.  The very soul of the core of the school shopping matter.

Miracles occurred today.

There have been many a shopping trip in my life with these daughters of mine that have ended in tears of frustration.  Funny cuts, ugly prints and ill-fitting frocks have all contributed to these minor meltdowns.

I kept a silent prayer in my heart as I led my girls from rack to rack.

"I LOVE that skirt, mama!  That is SO cute!" said Serena, smiling.  She is so very proud of her new braces.  She is the envy of all her bare toothed friends.

"I'm really diggin' this t-shirt, Mom,"  said Bella.


"That's a really ugly t-shirt, Bella," said Serena.


"Mom, tell Serena to quit saying everything I like is ugly.  I think everything SHE likes is ugly.  Like that ugly skirt she loves so much."


I smiled.  Things were going well.  Things were going very well.

"Let's be kind to one another about our individual choice of clothing," I said.  "I would wear both the skirt AND the t-shirt.  Not TOGETHER, of course, that would be ridiculous.  But I like them both.  You each have a great sense of style."


"I like really girly, pretty stuff and Bella likes super casual funky stuff, like fringe leather vests," said Serena.  "What's YOUR style, Mom?"


"Eclectic."


"What's that mean?"


"It means you can't fence me in.  I like a little bit of everything.  I love to borrow from any given style and make it my own."


"Daddy says you're Bombshell style.  But when we watch the Style channel it says that Bombshell style is mostly about, like, Victoria's Secret stuff..."


"Daddy said that, huh?" I smirked. 


"Yeah.  Can I have these high heels?"


Serena had stepped into a pair of four inch silver stilettos and was hobbling about precariously.

"No.  You'll break your face."


"But ALL my friends are wearing high heels!  Emma wears high heels.  Emily wears high heels.  Grace wears..."


I am constantly being told what ALL the OTHER girls are doing that she is not.  Can it be true?  Do you think? That ALL the mothers of twelve year old girls have joined forces without my knowledge and have purchased 4 inch shoes for their daughters?  Are there, unbeknownst to me, tons of twittering tweens teetering about the halls of middle schools across the nation?

After three hours of scouring every article of clothing in the store it came time to make the purchase.

I was pleased.

A song came on over the loud speaker.  It was a booty shaking song if I ever heard one.  So I did a little jig and sang along as the girl at the register scanned our every item.

"Mom!  That is SO embarrassing.  Quit dancing at the register!" said Serena.

"Don't be silly," said I. "Dancing at the register is HEALTHY!  It's a healthy endevour.  You should try it."


"Mom!  The girl at the register doesn't want to see you dancing.  It's WEIRD," she whispered loudly.

"The girl at the register doesn't mind my dancing at all," I said clearly for all to hear (as whispering in front of the girl at the register is rude.)  "Do you?"


"I don't mind at all," said the girl at the register to Serena.  "It makes her happy." She gestured to me.


"It makes YOU happy," I said to Register Girl, still dancing.  "Look how you're smiling!  You can't help yourself."


We all laughed and bid adieu.  Parting is such sweet sorrow.

And so it was that I asked and I was given.  I sought and I found.

Some might think praying before a shopping trip to The Forever 21 is silly.

But I am told in the scriptures that "the evil spirit teacheth not a man to pray, but teacheth a man that he must not pray...
But behold, ye must pray always... ye must not perform any thing ... save in the first place ye shall pray..."  2 Nephi 32:8-9 

So if the evil spirit DOESN'T want me to pray in The Forever 21 than guess what I'm'a gonna do?  That's right!  I'm gonna pray in The Forever 21!!

I'm sort of a rebel.

And behold, the biggest miracle of all?

I bought nothing for myself.  Which thing I never has supposed was possible.

PS  My little khaki overall dress was purchased this weekend in Vegas.  Vintage.  FIVE BUCKS!!  I am truly blessed in all things.

Dont Call Me Sexy!

Sexy.

That's what my husband called me.  RIGHT TO MY FACE!  I'm pissed.

I'll catch you up.

My sis, Coral, texted the other day.

~Describe me in one word.

My reply?

~Loved.  You are so Loved.  Do me now.

~Open. 

I said she was Loved and she described me as Open.  I felt all warm and fuzzy inside my heart, so I thought I would play the game with Mr. Pistol.

"Hey, Honey?"

"Yeah."

"Describe me in one word."

"Sexy."

He didn't skip A BEAT!  No thought involved AT ALL!  CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS CRAP?!

So I said (all cute and pouty-like),

"Noooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN'T be just sexy!"

His eyes got all squinty and confused.  He actually looked away from the TV and directly at me.

"Why?"

"Will I be sexy when I'm 80 and my boobs hang down to my knees??"

Ooooo trick question.  Let's see how he handles it, shall we?

"Ummm... yes?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wrong answer!"

He scratched his head.

"No?"

"NO.  I asked you to pick one word that would describe ME.  ME as a PERSON! ME as an INDIVIDUAL WITH INTELLIGENCE!  ME as an ETERNAL ENTITY WITH ENDLESS POTENTIAL! And the only word you could come with is SEXY?"

"I didn't realize...."

"Well yeah, I know, cause to MEN sexy is all that matters!  Sure, I'm sexy as hell NOW, but what about the aging process?  Huh?  If my word is SEXY than what will I be when sexy is GONE?"

"Uhhh..."

"NOTHING.  I'll be nothing.  A has-been who was SuperSexy Once Upon A Time.  And you'll say, 'Remember when you were Sexy?' "

"Can I change my answer?"

"Good idea."

"Complex."

"I don't know if I like that answer either."

"I have a headache."

I can't imagine why.

PS  Can you tell I used to be a serious dancer?  I still am.  I gotz mad skillz, yo.

Ok.  So.  Describe me in one word.  Be nice.

I'll start.

Narcissistic.

Now that THAT'S outta the way it's your turn. 

Let's talk about YOU.  What do YOU think about ME?

Hmmmm?

Dear Santa,

First off, Santa, I'm a HUGE fan of your work.  You really won me over with that red 10-speed bike when I was 9.  (It got stolen out of my carport later that day given I lived on the rough part of town... but I know you meant for me to have it. Thanks. I only cried for weeks. I'm fine now.)

Look,  I'm having a slight problem with my 10 year old regarding YOU.

Bella seems to think you are creepy stalker.

The whole, "I know when you are sleeping.  I know when you're awake.  I know if you've been bad or good..." well, it just doesn't sit well with her.  (She's a thinker.)

Don't worry.  I've explained that stalkers who bring expensive gifts in exchange for good behavior is totally acceptable! 

She's not buying it.

I just thought you should be aware we have a doubter on our hands.  If you could have Prancer stomp around extra hard on the roof Christmas Eve I'd be grateful.

Here's the part where I tell you what  I want for Christmas...

I know I'm a naughty girl sometimes but... sometimes I'm very very GOOD too!

As you know, I lost my cleaning ladies this year. I I also lost my manicurist, pedicurist, facialist and all my good, true friends at Anthropologie and Nordstrom.

It's been tough.  I've been through the wringer!  True tragedy has struck!

I'll just lay it out.

I want one of your Christmas Elves.

You have so many!  I'm sure you could spare just ONE!  They are tireless little workers.

My limbs are WAY too long to be cleaning toilets!  Plus I'm far too pretty for manual labor!  Scrubbing my own feet is GROSS.  

An Elf is the perfect height for toilet cleaning and feet scrubbing!  

I am too precious and attractive and special to be so exhausted all the time! 

I think I have earned my Elf seeing as I birthed 4 new adoring people for your fan club.

Love,

Crys

PS  No offense, but I think you should lose a couple of L.B.s for Mrs. Claus' sake.  Bellies like a bowl full of jelly are just not that sexy.  You can't let yourself go and expect her to chase you around the Magic Sleigh like she used to... I'm just sayin'...

PSS  Oh!  And Frosty the Snowman told me to tell you he hates your Reindeer.  They are very aggressive and charge at him in an effort to devour his carrot nose. Frosty has confided he is taking anti-anxiety meds as a direct result.

Dear My Readers,

I feel as though I've been neglecting you a bit.  I haven't been posting every single day as per my usual OCD self...  needless to say I have been busy with Christmas kiddie stuff and fall asleep against my will at the oddest of times and places... (Think Sears hardware dept at noon.)

Tonight my family and some friends fulfilled our Holiday tradition of going to Winter Haven, which is a community in Tucson where the fine folks who live in those houses must BY LAW decorate their home with Christmas lights and compete against each other for awards and prizes.

Scads of folks litter the quaint streets of Winter Haven during The Holiday, making it impossible for the owners of these homes to enter or leave for fear of killing a random Christmas Light Admirer.

As one of those random Christmas Light Admirers I must eloquently say, "It's a lot of fun."

Some people sing Carols as they walk... It's delightful!  (And by some people I mean ME. Nobody else.  Just ME.  I sing Christmas Carols and dance around to get people in the Holiday Spirit and also because I am over-caffinated.)

   




















One young girl said to me,

"You should be on TV and be FAMOUS so you could sing and dance and make people HAPPY!"

That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.  Thanks, girl whose name I do not know.  

The highlight of the evening, however, was the Port-O-Potty.  We spent a great deal of time awaiting our turn outside that all-important edifice.

I enjoyed taking pictures of our kids exiting The John, so as to humialiate them. 

I, myself, also took advantage of The Potty and was terrified someone would knock it over as a joke.  I have never peed so fast in my lifetime.

Merry Christmas!