Taking the slow road

We recently made a quick trip to San Antonio to visit the little one's Granny & Granddad. That is always a treat, because when we get there stuff like this is waiting for us. Sigh. And then Granddad makes us the most delicious paninis we've ever tasted. Wish I had a pic of those, but I inhaled both (yes, both) of mine before I thought about it!

Granny is always up for a game of tag.

And their kitty Babs lifts our spirits when we start missing our own fur balls.

On the straight, flat, and mind numbing drive home, we decided to make a detour. We hopped off of I-10 and took the old highway instead. It runs through all of the little old Texas towns that were passed by when I-10 was built. Little old Texas towns are great for lots of reasons, not the least of which is that you're virtually guaranteed that they'll have a Dairy Queen. Look what I found there :

Riding around past cow pastures and windmills with the sun streaming through my window, and eating a banana split. Well, that is one of the best times I've had in a long time.

Taking the old highway will lead you through towns with names like Flatonia and Schulenburg. Places that still have town squares that look like this :

You will also get to drive over pretty bridges like this :

And if your family is anything like ours, your own little one will take about 150 pictures of her toes.

Can't wait to do it all again.

Dear Mr. Tom Jones,

Remember that time in 1997 when you were performing at the MGM Grand in Vegas? And how I was in the audience? And how you sang that song "What's new pussycat"? And how every time after you sang the lyric, "Pussycat pussycat I love you", you would leer at the audience and stick out your tongue and make slurping sounds as if to imitate something that is not fit to be discussed on my sweet and innocent little blog? That totally grossed me out.

Sincerely, Kelley

PS: Also - when that woman came up to the stage to give you her panties - and then asked if she could kiss you - and you said sure - and then you like kissed her. For a really long time. Yeah, I didn't like that either.

photo via blogs.knoxnews.com

Happy Anniversary Husband !

May 5, 2002

My most favorite day ever. For true :-)

It seemed like a good idea at the time

So, you know how you can be hanging out at home with your boyfriend, having a little too much wine, and you end up spray painting your own car? Yeah, I totally did that.

In my defense, my 1990 Dodge Daytona was already in bad shape. She was a dull shade of teal green and had problems no mechanic had been able to diagnose. She was already half gone, so when my ex boyfriend and I were just tipsy enough and remembered that we had some flat black spray paint in the garage ... well, we couldn't mess the car up any more than she already was. Right? Wrong.

We each picked a side of the car and painted simultaneously, thereby ensuring (total suckage - uh, I mean) that each side would be different. Different is good right ? Wrong. For some reason I neglected to immortalize the outcome on film, so I have reenacted it above to the best of my abilities.

At that point in my life, I was a waitress. When I went in to work that afternoon, I parked my car, made my way inside, and waited in the kitchen for the staff meeting to begin. Within one minute every male waiter came literally bursting through the swinging doors breathlessly saying things like ... "Oh my God ... no .... Kelley ... someone graffitied your car !!! They painted all over it. The guys are out there trying to catch 'em!!! Aw man, I can't believe it!"

The howls of laughter when I told them that I had in fact spray painted my own car could be heard as far away as Dallas. I have never lived that one down.

Coincidentally

On Facebook there are hundreds of quizzes one can take about pretty much anything. What movie are you? What 80's song are you? What city are you? Today I took one to find out which famous painting I am, and this was the answer ...

Well, look where I was 20 years ago ...

Standing on that same footbridge in Monet's very own garden. Neat.

PS: In that photo, I'm wearing the very same miniskirt that I wore for a walk around Paris later on in my trip. It was because of this miniskirt (I hope) that I was mistaken for a prostitute not once, but THREE times in one day ... and in fact was followed for at least a mile by a strange man in a suit with a briefcase. I only managed to shake him by stopping at a crepe stand where the crepe man gave the strange man the stink eye and scared him away. I don't wear miniskirts in Paris anymore.

Minivan Confessions

My first car was pink. Baby Pink. Well, technically Heathermist Mauve. What kind of a person has a pink car? Me. How on Earth did I manage to arrange that? It was 1988. I was 17. I had a really cool mom.

The object of my desire in the late 1980s was a Saab. Not just any one mind you. Mine needed to be baby pink with pristine beige leather interior. Hot.

Well, my first car turned out to be not a Saab, but a hatchback Honda Accord in an unsettling fleshy color. I was quite happy to just have a car. My mom, who was never one to go small, suggested getting it painted in any color I wanted. Pink it was! And that's how it came to be that I surely had the only baby pink Honda Accord hatchback in the whole world.

PS: The guys at Maaco not so subtly ribbed me for wanting to paint a car pink. They eventually came around, and spent hours sorting through their paint books for just the right shade for me. The pinstripe guy did an elaborate freehand design down the side of my car in a fabulous fucshia. He was quite proud of it. So was I.

Dear Sue Chen and Lisa Delong,

Remember all of those high school summers when we spent our days at drill team practice? And how I lived closest to the school, so we would walk back to my house for lunch. And how I would get out my original Broadway cast recording of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, Song and Dance. And how I would make you sit on the couch while I belted out all of my favorite songs for you. And how I would act them out too. Yeah ... Sorry about that.

The one about the time I was dissed by a pudgy balding former rock star

About 15 years ago, I was a sad little waitress who never knew where her next margarita was coming from. When my friend Shannon asked me to go to Party on the Plaza with her... and said that she knew someone, who knew someone, who could get us free drinks ... well, I was not about to say no. Party on the Plaza is a series of free concerts held in a downtown Houston park on Thursday afternoons. 

On this particular Thursday, Loverboy was the featured band. I was always more of a Duran Duran girl, but the lure of free drinks clouded my judgement, and downtown I went. We had been there about 10 minutes when Shannon asked me if I wanted to go backstage. Um ... yes please. Since we knew someone who knew someone, we were escorted right back. Right back to the other side of the string that separated "backstage" from the rest of the park. Hmmm ... not quite as big of a deal as I thought it would be. Oh well. Free drinks.

We sat on the edge of a planter and enjoyed the people watching while we waited for the band to begin. After a minute I heard Shannon say, "Is that him? Is ... that ... him ... ? No ... yes ... uh". I turned my head and saw a chunky balding guy in unfortunate leather pants staring at us. Mike Reno. Lead singer of Loverboy. Checking us out. Free drinks.

He sauntered over to us, paused dramatically, and took a big swig from his water bottle. Then he just stood there. And stood there. Looking at us. Not talking. "Um ... hi how are you?", we said. To which he replied, "Can't talk girls ... I'm saving my pipes". Then he turned on his heels and walked away to start the show. The free show. In a park. On a Thursday. Whatever. Free drinks.

PS: No joke, he rocked that park so hard. He sounded great. Am attaching video of a recent interview he did with a female reporter. He has his arm around her. He is leaning into her. He is whispering. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Mike Reno is still saving his pipes ... and hopefully giving that poor girl some free drinks.

Something you don't know about me

When I was a little girl, I was absolutely convinced that my dad looked exactly like Elvis. Exactly.

Just for good measure ... my favorite Elvis moment :

Freckles Switch-a-roo

One of the many pets I had as a child was my dog, Freckles. I loved that little doggie. She chased me around the yard and tried to steal my popcorn. We played together in the giant dog house my dad built for her. She was nice to my cat Heidi. Lots of fun memories.

Many years later, I was looking back at pictures from my childhood. I began to notice something unusual. The back of every photo of Freckles had things written on it like, "Freckles #1, and Freckles #2, and Other Freckles, and New Freckles" ... hmmmm ....

I asked my mom what all that was about. She got really quiet, and then proceeded to tell me that my dad had accidentally run over the original Freckles. He ran out and found a dog that kinda sort of looked like Freckles #1. Brought it home. They never said anything, and I never noticed. Even though Original Freckles was brown, and New Freckles was black and white ... I never noticed.

Suburban shenanigans

Early into our marriage, my husband and I built a cute house, in a cuute neighborhood, in a cuuute suburb of Houston ... we loved our house, but I just never felt comfortable up there. It was all a little too ... clean ... in every way, it was scrubbed clean. In the pre-dawn hours, small armies of dark green golf carts would swarm the area. Their drivers rid the streets of any and all litter before the sun could rise and shine down upon it. It freaked me out. It was kind of exhausting being accosted by all of that perfection, all of the time. I couldn't shake the feeling that I so did not belong in this place.

Then one balmy Christmas eve, a glimmer of hope arrived right in my own little neighborhood. Right at my own front door in fact. It was a sign that perhaps ... just perhaps, there were others like me in this perfectly clean place. My husband and I were returning home from a night out. We rounded the corner into our neighborhood, and I immediately noticed that something was amiss.

Someone had taken every single lighted reindeer, in every single yard ... and had moved them into *ahem* compromising positions *ahem* . I fell asleep with a smile on my face, wondering if the dark green golf carts would be able to fix the situation before the sun came up.

PS : Another time, husband went out to retrieve the morning paper. He came back in with a strange look on his face. Someone had moved everything from our porch, and put it onto our driveway. They didn't steal anything. They didn't deface anything. They just moved all of the chairs, plant stands, tables, etc ... and carefully placed them in exactly the same configuration in the middle of our driveway. We still crack up about that one. I miss those guys.

Roy & Dale

As a little girl, I watched the Roy Rogers & Dale Evans show with my dad. I loved them so much. I thought Dale was just the most beautiful thing, and Roy ... well, he had a horse that could do tricks, and in my mind, there's nothing cooler than that.

Roy & Trigger

Roy Rogers & Dale Evans - Happy Trails

What I saw while driving to the grocery store

A young woman with :

• A tattoo sleeve
• Maroon hair
• Tight pink t-shirt
• Leopard print scarf
• Riding a Vespa with "Thrasher" spray painted on the side of it

She was SO awesome. I wanted to be her for an hour or two. I love it when the whole tough but girly look works ... and she had it down.

She turned into the parking lot of a tattoo parlor. Work perhaps? I drove on, still thinking about the tough girl in pink. A thought popped into my head. As a little girl, I loved watching reruns of Happy Days on TV. I was fascinated by Fonzy's girlfriend, Pinky Tuscadero. She drove cars in demolition derbies. She was tough. She wore pink leather. I wanted to be her ... and apparently, I still do.

PS : I loved her so much, that my dad called me Pinky Tuscadero instead of Kelley. It made me so happy.

A day for us

I'm always amazed by how much beautiful wedding inspiration there is on the web these days. It almost makes me wish I could have a second go at mine. I didn't even own a computer when I was planning ours ( can you imagine ! ). Really though, at the risk of sounding cliche, it was a perfect day for us, and I wouldn't change much about it. We married at The Parador, here in Houston. It is a beautiful and historic building near the Museum District. So beautifully restored to its original glory. Our first view of the space was from the parking lot, through a garden gate. I took one look at the garden and said, "I don't care how much it costs, we have to get married here". And we did ... In case you weren't there ( and chances are, you weren't ), here's a look back.

Screen Door Love

I love old screen doors. I love the rusted screens and chipping paint. I love that long creak as the door gets pulled open, and the dull bang, bang, bang as it closes. I'm forever on the lookout for one to grace our back door. Until I find it, this idea from Design Sponge just might keep me sated. A chalkboard in an old screen door, why not? Now, I've only to find the wall space for it.  I think I might have better luck by using an old window frame instead ... hmmm, wheels turning.

From Design Sponge