Travelista

I would like to get to a point where I’m blogging a few times a week but it seems hard for me to get to the computer as often as I’d like. I saw a little part of the blog you can click on to post straight from your phone but that poses a real problem for me as I am not one of those people that should have access to posting their every thought- you would get a lot of un-politically correct thoughts flying at you like spider monkeys and I would probably get scolded by my husband weekly.
This past weekend I was so lucky to get to spend 2 days in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, my old college stomping grounds. I went to Marquette from 2001-2005, and the last 2 years, I lived with 8 girls. If you have ever lived with a large number of girl roommates you know that this is an amazing accomplishment! We were so lucky to have had such amazing memories, and to still love each other afterwards! Of course there were random fights like someone coming home inebriated and eating someone else’s entire pack of velveeta cheese, and as we have aged the random stories seem to have gotten crazier- we laughed hysterically the whole weekend at all the crazy memories we had. We lived in a really neat house on the outskirts of campus with 8 bedrooms. it is so funny to me how I had romanticized that house in my head. I remember it being this beautiful sprawling historic mansion, with intricate cherry woodwork and a warm and fuzzy interior that lent itself to many nights bonding with some of my best girlfriends. Upon arrival at the house at our random drive-by on Saturday, however, I remembered that the house was in one of the most ghetto areas of Milwaukee, about half a mile from a shelter, and next to a very creepy and struggling bulk foods warehouse that I don’t believe I realized at the same could very well be a possible home to many a drug deal. We honked at a boy who was approaching the house, all giggling that he might live there, and rolling laughing as he actually walked up to the house proving he either lived there or knew the residents. After a few minutes one of my roommates and I decided we were too curious and needed to see the inside after all these years.
Well, it took about 20 minutes of knocking and retreating to the back door instead of the front door to get the current boy residents to let us in. I had really forgotten one of the things associated with college that you immediately remember upon walking into a house like this-SMELLS. So many smells. It was the pizza boxes piled high in the kitchen that could have been from September. It was the 8 boys laying on the couch taking a break from final studying (or recovering from Friday’s activities), their Axe body spray fighting so hard to cover their 21 year old body odor. There was a Gatorade bottle in the “formal dining room” (where we used to have a precious picnic table painted white for roommate dinners) that was flavored orange but definitely the color of pee. I really don’t want to know why. I am sure in college if I had a crush on one of those boys, I could have gotten over those smells to watch Friends in his living room, but now I’m old, married to the most hunky boy I have ever met in my life, and I could barely tolerate touring that house for 10 minutes! It is so funny what happens when you get older.
Well overall we had a great weekend and I’m so happy I had the opportunity to see everyone. I was so lucky to live with this group of amazing women. Between us we have many masters degrees, babies, babies on the way, husbands, and hilarious memories. I faced some challenges in college and I’m sure I wasn’t always the easiest to love or to live with, and I feel very lucky to still be part of such a great group of gals. Can’t wait for our next reunion!
Just a couple of notes I couldn’t help but gather while traveling-
Why do people panic in regards to eating while traveling? I flew out early Friday morning and found myself people watching in Houston about 9 am- I got to see literally every person fly into the food court in a panic, look around quickly, and order something that was definitely not going to do anything but disrupt their day and wreak havoc on their airplane seat partner. I saw a petite older woman come in, look at the coffee stand muffins for 5 minutes, and settle on a huge platter of BBQ for her breakfast. When they were taking her order she looked panicked and like she was about to cry yet there she was 2 minutes later sitting at a table stuffing jalapeno sausage in her mouth like it was going to be her last meal ever. I felt so bad for her thinking of her stuffed into the tiny airplane bathroom 2hours later, cursing herself for not choosing the banana and muffin option. Listen people I’m not judging. I have gotten a 2 lb bag of skittles at the airport store, paid 9.95 for it, and shuffled out of their shamed only to polish it off reading US weekly on my flight. I just want to express to everyone that it doesn’t have to be this way! We need to band together and help each other out. Next time I am about to order the Mexican spice platter before my 7:30 a.m. flight, I would love if it someone came up to me and preached about the courtesy of gas movement on the tiny airplanes. We are all in this traveling food frenzy together!
Tomorrow my plan is to post some last-minute great gift ideas I’ve come across through magazines and different blogs. I always like to see everyone else's las-minute ideas.

MAN HANDS

Yes, I believe it’s time to get real and talk about my man hands.

I think I mentioned this before, but we are on a very strict budget. I will buy the store brand cereal and turn lights off throughout the day to make sure I have the money for certain things. And those certain things are: Target, yellowtail wine and family pictures. I looove pictures. I love the random candids that prove we are hilariously imperfect. And I love the professional pictures that we take that make us look like the beautiful family I certainly have in my mind.

We had the honor of having Sarah Giles of Butterfly Chaser Photography take these pictures a few weeks ago in downtown Bryan. (if you live in Bryan/College Station and she isn’t taking your pictures you need to get with her stat!) They are wonderful because she uses a tool called photoshop to make us look a whole lot better than we actually look in person. If you were to see me right this second you might argue that’s not me. I have on Mossimo leggings that have lint all over them and they are cutting right into my mom lower belly. I have on a long gray shirt that used to have a tie at the waist but I lost it so the tshirt scrunches in all the wrong places. And I smell like Chinese food even though I ate chicken and a sweet potato for dinner.

So I was ecstatic to say the least when I got these pictures but I did have one hold up (that I will say, Sarah could not have done anything about!) I couldn’t stop looking at one thing-MY MAN HANDS. I have had man hands for as long as I can remember. Have you scrolled back up to the picture yet? They are enormous. What’s possibly most unfortunately is that they’re directly next to my husband, who is a pretty big guy, and almost the exact same size, and next to a baby, which just exacerbates their size. I’m a fairly average size girl, 5’5”, 1hundredsomethingdifferent every day pounds, but one thing that I’ve always had is the man hands.

When I shake someone’s hand, they often comment, wow nice handshake. I do have a firm grip, but it also helps that I have the hands of Arnold Schwarzenegger and they’ve just completely enveloped said other man’s hand. Mittens never fit.

When I was pregnant, I had to go to TJ maxx and get a ring to wear the last few months because not only did I have man hands, but they swelled to a size bagillion and you could barely see the diamond on my ring anymore because the fat was overflowing sucking it down.

However, once in a blue moon the man hands do come in handy. Last summer I picked up a tarantula with my bare hands at a party at my house and threw it over the fence. Everyone was blown away by my bravery but I knew that I was holding it with my thumb and forefinger and it was practically the state of Texas between me and getting bitten. I can typically get in all my grocery bags in one trip because my man hands can grab about 5 plastic bags in each hand. I give a mean back massage because it’s like having double the hands. But just when I feel I will be able to use my man hands for only good in this world, I get a beautiful family picture back and there they are, haunting me!

On a side note, I want to talk about what happens when mommy gets lazy. We seem to have a crazy amount of laundry lately and I can’t figure out why. Zac and I both try to work out regularly but haven’t increased our work outs, just not sure, but I was doing about 4 loads the other day and trying to move quickly when I opened up the washing machine to pure disaster. I had washed a pee diaper in the wash! Our clothes had gone through an entire cycle, spinning around in soap and pee, and the gel that keeps the pee in diapers was E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. Seriously it was like someone took a gel hose and sprayed it in every shirt pocket. So tip to all you moms out there, don’t just check your hubbie’s jeans pockets for money (I still haven’t found any….), also check those piles for a diaper!
Here are a few things that I have been thinking about lately:
I can resist regular candy much easier than I can resist holiday candy. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good Dove chocolate any day of the year. But if they put Reeses peanut butter into a Christmas tree or an Easter egg shape, I am going to buy them, and I’m going to buy them in bulk.
I cannot find the perfect toilet paper. We had one of Zac’s very sweet friends Brett Baptist visit two years ago and he remarked on emergence from our guest bathroom, “Where did you get this toilet paper, Prison?” I believe I was in a cheap “household items” stage, possibly even a Dollar Tree household items stage. Since then I’ve been on a mission to find that perfect softness but I can’t. It’s either too soft, and falls apart in my hands, or Prison paper. I spent about 15 minutes in the toilet paper isle on Wednesday at HEB (our grocery store) and was even reading the back of the toilet paper packages for information. This has gotten out of control but the worst part is, I remember an experience I had in a country club last year with the perfect toilet paper, and I can’t get it out of my head!
Is there anything better than when your baby is laughing so hard he (or she) farts?