Happy Birthday to MEEEEEE

So yes... one more year. I have now officially scaled the hill toward 30 and come across the top, and now I'm sliding toward the bottom with a pina colada in one hand, yelling "wheeeee!"

Even though I've gotten a little scraped on the way down, it hasn't been that bad of a ride, really.

And I'm talking as if I'm all that close to 30. *Chuckle*

This previous week was one that was disorienting enough that on Sunday, when I woke to the sweet bells of my children singing "Happy Birthday" on their way into my room with my presents, it took me a moment to realize that it was, indeed, that particular day.

I spent the morning at church, and followed it with lunch at a friend's house. I then came home to rest, and then had a few friends over for dinner. And even though my gifts were FABULOUS, nothing can compare to the best gift I felt that day... friendship. It took away the pang of loneliness that I had been existing in for longer than I care to admit, and reminded me that there are people that care about me. And over the course of the last 2 days I've learned of several people that I love that have plans (or are in the process of having plans) to move closer here. Some are fairly new friends in the grand scheme, others I've known much, much longer.

*Sigh* There is, after all, a superglue for hearts.

Reasons to Move to Houston

OK... I've heard of 4 people that I love dearly that are either moving back to Houston or moving for the first time. I wondered why, and in the skill of list-making I am a master.

1. Speed limits? We don't need no stinking speed limits!
2. We have "feeder" roads.
3. You're in the South. Like... WAY in the South.
4. The people are nice. No one shoots you for saying hello. Heck, they might even say hello back.
5. You can say "y'all" and not be laughed at.
6. We have NASA. 'Nuff said.
7. You don't need to spend any money on spas. Nine months out of the year you can just walk outside to feel like you've had a warm wet blanket thrown over your face.
8. All the cool bands play concerts here.
9. No one stares at you blankly when you say where you're from.
10. I live here.

Yep, sounds good to me.

For five satisfying days my house was kept in decent order. Laundry got done. Dishes were done every night. The kids' rooms miraculously didn't have any tornadoes blow through. The kids actually got along a lot of the time. I actually got to shower every day. And do my makeup.

The peaceful wind that blew through the Siler house was my Momma.

If you've never met my Momma, you're missing a lot. She's dubbed by the people who know her as the sweetest woman alive. I tend to concur. She's the woman who "adopted" all my friends in school, all of which lovingly called her "Mom" (even to this day). She stuck her neck out to make the best for me and my sister. When there wasn't a Girl Scout troop in our area, she started one. When there wasn't a flag sponsor, she took it on. She was always there, always supportive. Wanna dance? You got it! Wanna take piano lessons? Sure, babe! Girl Scouts? Rock on! All at once? And add FTA, AP courses, Honors Society, ROTC, Band, Flagline, and Clarinet lessons? Bring it on!

She's the incredible woman who was the rock during my turbulent teenage years (because whose teenage years weren't turbulent, I'd like to know, but it takes a special woman not to kill her children during this time). She was a guide, mentor, chauffeur, tutor, confidante, cheerleader, avid supporter, and I'm proud to say one of the best friends I've ever had.

I can only hope that I can be to my children what my Mom has been to me. I want them to have that in me, because I never take for granted what I've been given. When my friends gush about what an awesome Mom I have, I just smile and say, "I know."

I love you, Mom.

glitter-graphics.com

RCH

Every woman should own one.

Own one what?

I'm so glad you asked.

An RCH. The epitome of illusion... the Really Cute Hat. All hair woes end then and there. You can wear it when your hair won't do anything else for you, and no one knows the difference. Why?

Because they can't get over how cute your hat is, of course.

It's the ultimate distraction. A certifiable RCH will be well-fitted, of a unique and interesting style that flatters your face, and preferably in a neutral color. Subtly adorable, with little details that catch the eye. Not overboard or glitzy. Flexible enough to match almost any outfit, or so cute that no one really cares whether or not it matches. Because if they were you, they couldn't care less whether or not they were wearing black with navy, as long as they could wear that hat!

You know you've found a true RCH when you wear it and at least 50% of the people you hang around say something about it, even if they've seen it before. This is always a good measure to see if your RCH still holds its power or if it's time to retire your RCH and hunt for a new one.

Here is my RCH:


And since I'm in the picture-posting mood because I'm flying high on all the compliments I received on my RCH, here's some more:


Eli made a bed out of a laundry basket, a blanket, and a couch throw pillow, and actually fell asleep in it.


Izzy made a bed out of our game table chair, but didn't actually fall asleep in it.


Any time the camera is on, expect much ham.


Two hams don't make a monkey... or do they?


Caught in the act... I knew he had a crush on her!!! Moo-haha!


You might mistake this look as pensive, but really it's the look he gets right before he McGuyvers my medicine cabinet open with the cell phone charger's plug. I kid you not.


Izzy's hair from Libby Lu. Best $4 I think I've ever spent 'cause it ranks right up there with an RCH.

Hack hack sputter

So it seems my children have bronchitis.

But they don't seem to realize it.

So while I'm stuck at home and don't get to do fun things like go to Roots or have friends over, they're running around the house like caged monkeys. Destroying everything in their path. It has not been a happy two days.

Oh, and did you know that inhalers have stimulants?

Eli knows this now. Because he had an upper respiratory reaction to the bronchitis (what they call it when it's not chronic enough to be asthma). So he is on an inhaler until the bronchitis is gone. So there are three monkeys. Eli counts for two when on a stimulant.

Thankfully Friday is very close, and it will all be over. Thank God for super antibiotics.

The only way to spend the church's date night is drinking and playing pool

I felt almost bad telling people when we got back to the church to pick up our kids. But you know what? I had an amazing time.

We went to Frank N Stein's, a pub & grill that B goes to for poker games. It may sound bad, but it was a nicer place than I expected it to be. I mentioned this to B and he said, "What, you think I've been hanging out in a dive?" Yeah, he's so 80s.

The one thing they don't have going for them is their selection of girly drinks. I guess since it's a sports bar I'll let them get away with it. But only because they have a pool table that's only $1 per game. I settled for a rum & Coke. It'll do. Even if it isn't frozen. Or fruity. The bartender looked at me like I'd grown a horn right smack in the middle of my forehead when I asked if they had any flavored rum. Was that wrong?

We were joined by some friends mid-pool. We played two games, both of which I whooped butt on. The first game was lost by B sinking the 8. I legitimately won the second game by sinking the 8 at *whew* exactly the right time in exactly the right pocket. Because you know I'm good like that. I should even get Brownie points for taking that game to teach J how to play pool. She had never played. How can one be 25 and never have played pool? This kind of circumstance is beyond my comprehension. With instruction (because you all know how much I love to teach), she sank 3 of mine that game. Yeah, baby!

B claims that I have an "evil pool look." I laugh it off, but my sister swears it, too. Apparently when I'm concentrating right before taking a shot I look like the devil incarnate. How's that for a compliment??? ;)

We ate burgers, fajitas, onion rings, and fried mushrooms. Needless to say, no one was counting calories that night. As if the beer that we drank didn't constitute a meal's worth of calories anyway.

Today was SOOO hectic. After picking up the Angel Food order and getting my nails done, I went with Izzy and some friends to Central Market (my favorite place to shop!). I don't get to go there very often, so normal things are out of the question. Thankfully, CM has a load of not-so-normal things, and even some what-the-heck things. These are a lot more fun to buy.

Some takes of the day include a small sprig of fresh mint, orugula and mushroom pasta in bumblebee stripes, freshly made honey-roasted peanut butter (as in I watched it being made), lamb patties with feta and mint, strawberry apple juice, four small bags of various organic granolas to go with my yogurt (Hawaiian, strawberry vanilla, etc), and millet bread. What we don't eat of the bread I plan to give to Kai. Haha.

The friends that came to CM with me came over for dinner, and from our purchases we made raspberry chipotle chicken, fresh rosemary and olive oil red potatoes, and the most veggiefied salad I think I've ever seen, topped with a pomegranate hibiscus dressing.

Yummmmmmmmmmm.

I think I may be getting hungry again just thinking about it.

Before I eat us out of house and home on a CM-induced foodie frenzy, here's some pics from last night:


Me & J over dinner... very interesting trying to aim the camera at both of us over that huge table.


Apparently the mushroom-onion-swiss burger induces comas.


The Evil Pool Look, an attempt to capture the uncapturable. Although I've been told since I knew I was getting my photo taken, I toned it down quite a bit. Personally I think I look as cuddly as a bunny. If only the red eyes didn't give me away!!!