Finding your JOY

Recently, I have begun following a blog.(www.beckykiser.com)  This precious lady is mom to one of my little dance students.  Mother and daughter are both such lights.  Becky's posts reminded me of how I enjoy writing and that I rarely take the time to do anything for myself, so today I'm hitting the keyboard and getting back to it.

CHRISTMAS season is among us.  It's a time of great joy for some, but also the source of stress, sadness and loneliness for others.  I can recall Christmases when I was run ragged, trying to get all of my shopping done, gifts wrapped, parties attended, parties hosted, menus planned...the busyness was overwhelming.


CHRISTMAS season is truly about the HOPE that the birth of CHRIST brings to the world.  Even Charlie Brown and Snoopy get that.  Some people miss that part.

Yesterday, as I was sprawled out on the floor wrapping gifts, I spoke to a friend who expressed relief that she didn't have to do any of that--no gifts to buy or wrap, no hassle, no stress.  I looked across the room at the packages in pretty paper, waiting to be adorned with ribbon and bows, and I did not feel overwhelmed or frustrated, rushed or troubled.  I felt GRATEFUL.

Yes, I am grateful that I can marathon gift wrap on the floor for an hour or so and still get up, move my body and teach dance classes.

Which made me feel grateful for Christmas dances where my students proudly show their parents what they have been learning.  I think of the videos and pictures, the smiles and proud parents and all that stress melts away.





I look at the different wrapping paper scraps strewn across the floor. A different paper for each girl, and I am so grateful I have my girls to select, give to and wrap for.









I chuckle as I wrap up little "happies" for my parents.  My gift selections are simple, and I am grateful they are both still with me to celebrate this year.

And I look at the "practical, grocery list kind of gift" I need to wrap for my sweet husband and again, am grateful for his sense of humor and wit.

My JOY is in my family, my loves, and my love for what I do everyday.

Not everyone has a family surrounding them, but if you look hard enough, you will see there are people all around you who love and care for you.  Lovely neighbors who join you on your morning walks, or co-workers sharing the ups of downs of what you do, friends who are busy, but love and care for you even when they can't be there physically.



I find that I encounter wonderful people wherever I go.  Maybe it's the friendly produce man at HEB, or the sweet checker, a kind parent of one of my dance students, the postman checking to see if I saw the package on my front porch.  All you have to do is open your eyes and SMILE.  And there it is, your JOY.

Happy Birthday, MaMa--Remembering You Today and Always

Today would have been my grandmother's 94th birthday.  She would have hated for me to have shared her age with you.  I just wanted to share my reflection of what a wonderful woman she was. 

Perhaps you have had the privilege of sitting at her table and know firsthand what a FANTASTIC cook she was. Perhaps you were a “coffee friend” and you sipped coffee at 4 o’clock and had a piece of her FAMOUS 5-Flavor Pound Cake. Perhaps you can recall a time when she did something special for you or someone you love. Because to know my grandmother was to be filled.

Not just filled with tasty treats, strong coffee or sweet tea, but filled with LOVE.

My grandmother knew what it meant to GIVE. She knew better than anyone that it is far better to give than it is to receive. She was a giver. Before the term “servant’s heart” was made popular in church circles, she embodied what it is to have a servant’s heart. My grandmother served all of her life. She served others—her family, her neighbors, her friends and most assuredly her Lord. She taught us all how great it is to SERVE.

My grandmother was a prayer warrior. We used to joke that she had a hotline straight to God! She prayed through the most difficult losses in her life. She prayed for her family, she prayed for her friends, and she prayed for friends of those people—sometimes people she never knew. She shared her faith by praying for others. She was a real woman of FAITH.

My grandmother was determined. If you knew her well, you know that she was not a patient woman. (and I really RESPECT that quality in others since I might tend to demonstrate a bit of that myself) She was a busy person. She did not sit idle. MaMa (as we call her) was a worker. She said you must do so that you can do. And she did—pick up sticks, blow leaves off the driveway, sweep the porch and vacuum and vacuum and vacuum. That’s why she was never an old person. Even though she might have been chronologically older, she was not an old person. Throughout her life, she continued to DO.

She loved her home. She loved her yard. And she loved her birds! Matthew 7:26 says: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns…”–That’s right! The birds did not worry about storing up food b/c they all knew the way to MaMa’s house! Her favorite birds were the red birds or the cardinals. They never went without bird seed—MaMa saw to that! She kept her hummingbird feeders full of sweet, red nectar and the bird feeders full of seeds. She shooed away the squirrels (at times with a bb gun) and really enjoyed caring for the birds. She really CARED.

She cared for her family like no other. She loved and cared for her husband, my PaPa. She once told me that she was married for a year before she knew he had a fault. She loved and cared for my beautiful Aunt Bobbie throughout her battle with cancer. She loved and cared for my mother and daddy, my brother, my husband and me. And let me tell you how much she cared for my girls. During her time in the Woodlands, she was always uplifted when her great granddaughters came to visit. And in her last years, when she wasn’t able to physically serve others, she gave us an opportunity to serve her, teaching each of us about exponential love and compassion.

My grandmother was WISE. She had clever little sayings that often painted a real picture of her wisdom. Some of my favorites are: “Pretty is as pretty does”; “That’s no hill for a stepper”; “Self-praise is half scandal”; “Roll with the punches”; “Skin a gnat and swallow a camel”. Have I ever told you what she would say when we would come to the door? She kept her storm door locked and would come to unlock the door when you rang the bell and say, “Lift the latch and come in.” And we all came in, one by one, and we were each touched, served, loved, and cared for by her. On Thursday, February 26, 2009, in the early morning, I know that the Lord ran to that door and said to MaMa, “Lift the latch and come in.” And imagine the fanfare with which she was greeted.

It's been almost two years, since MaMa died.  I think of her often and miss her so much.  So on the day that would have been her 94th birthday, I'm reflecting, remembering and reliving many moments I was blessed to spend with a dear, dear lady. 

Does God Read My Blog?

Today while walking the 3-mile power walk, I noticed the wind whipping up. Leaves trickled down softly, landing in the road, on the sidewalk, all over the driveway. I watched those leaves twirl and dance to the ground and couldn’t help but smile and think of my precious grandmother. She would have swept the porch three times already and had her blower plugged in and ready to go. She didn’t like an idle leaf on her pavement. It was rare that any leaf idled there long when MaMa was on watch.


I started thinking about all these little things that have been happening. It’s like my grandmother knows how much I miss her and knows she is on my mind. Out of nowhere “Good Housekeeping” magazine began arriving in my mailbox. I didn’t order it. I loved to read them at my grandmother’s house. She always had the latest issue ready for me when I visited. When it arrived in my mailbox, it was like a little gift from MaMa. I wondered how she knew I needed it.

I also have this little red bird that crosses my path from time to time. My grandmother especially loved the red birds! There are many birds flying through our wooded neighborhoods, but this little cardinal always seems to be the same. I only see it when I am alone. I am beginning to wonder if my grandmother isn’t sending it to let me know she’s with me.


This was taken at Christmas 2004.  It was the last Christmas she spent at home. 
She fell and broke her hip February 2005 and spent
the next 4 Christmases at Regent Care Center in The Woodlands.


There are so many things I would like to share with my grandmother. I know she would marvel at my “What’s on Tara’s Table” Facebook page. She wasn’t the most objective person when it came to me (and isn’t that just one of the best things about grandmothers?), so I have no doubt she would delight in each and every post.

This picture of my FABULOUS
Aunt Bobbie was taken at a
beach house in Galveston. 
It's one of my favorites. 

I often wonder what my Aunt Bobbie would think about my latest wine discoveries. She first exposed me to wine and taught me to appreciate it. She would have absolutely LOVED Hubbell and Hudson. Bobbie enjoyed “gourmet” treats like no one I’ve ever known. She was all about the “something special”.

So, God, if you read my blog, would you let my grandmother know that I miss her terribly and wish I could share my latest culinary creation with her? And would you tell my Aunt Bobbie that her two great nieces have inherited her love of jewelry and flair for fashion? Could you let them know that I hope there is some way that they could know all the neat things I’m doing? But most of all, could you just let them know that I learned so much from them and hope I am making them proud? And a hug and kiss wouldn’t hurt. Thanks, God. You’re the best!

Doing the Right Thing NEVER Goes Out of Style

Good Samaritans are few and far between these days.  It seems like there are a lot of people who are "all about me" or "what's in it for me". 

Just recently my husband, Charlie, was driving to Beaumont for a retirement celebration for a co-worker.  It was on a Friday that Charlie was off.  He had many things he needed to do around here, but this fellow retiring was a great guy and Charlie felt like it was important to drive over and wish him well.  Lucky for Bob Berry!

On the return trip, between Houston and Beaumont, along I-10, Charlie stopped off for gas.  As he filled up his tank, he noticed a wallet on top of the gas pump.  He opened it up to see who it belonged to and found Bob Berry's driver's license.  Charlie used his phone to look up Bob's address and phone number.  When he called his home, he reached Bob's wife.  Mrs. Berry told Charlie that 80-year-old Bob had been on a joy ride on his Harley when he left his wallet behind.  (Yes, I said 80 years old!)

Later that day, Bob and Charlie spoke and made arrangements for Bob to drive up and retrieve his wallet the next morning.  Bob arrived during our neighborhood Halloween Breakfast. 


Bob and Charlie posing in front of the Harley.

 The best part of Bob's visit was his GREAT story for leaving his wallet behind.  Bob said that he was just finishing up when this limo full of 20-something girls in various stages of dress drove up.  They had flyers for a new club called Girls, Girls, Girls.  They were offering to give him a lift to this new establishment.  Even an 80-year-old man gets distracted by young, scantily clad women.  The good news is that he turned them down and hopped on his bike.  Unfortunately he forgot his wallet, AND he told his wife the WHOLE story when he got home.  We were all rolling!

So during our short time with Bob, we learned that he was a marine and a decorated war vet from the Korean War.  He told us that with getting older, you start losing friends.  He said the friends that are still around can't drive anymore and their wives have to drive them around.  Bob said, "Or they're sick, can't walk or on some medication and can't drink anymore."  He told us that he had to get some younger friends.  So he bought a Harley.  Bob says it's like being in a fraternity.  He has friends wherever he goes.

What a character!  80-years-YOUNG and full of life!

We all enjoyed meeting Mr. Bob Berry.  I don't think our neighbors will ever forget this Halloween Breakfast! 

What we all learned is that it's always fashionable to do the right thing.  It might have taken a little effort to find Mr. Berry and track him down, but we all know the fear of identity theft.  His wallet, in the wrong hands, might have actually MADE it to Girls, Girls, Girls.

But for us, we were blessed to meet this fine gentleman who served our country proudly, who lost soldier buddies in war, who has a new lease on life after doing a little evaluating as his aging comrades began dying off.  I think we all learned a lesson from Bob Berry. 

1. NEVER, pay attention to scantily clad women with a flyer for a new club.
2. And, never grow old!



Even Hope and Gracen got in on the fun.

 So it just goes to show you, there are still honest people in this world.  I happen to be married to one.  Mr. Berry offered Charlie something for his trouble, but my southern gentleman shook his head and said, "No, thank you, Mr. Berry.  Meeting you was thanks enough." 

And with that, Mr. Bob Berry climbed onto his big blue Harley and started it up with a roar.  Charlie had mapped out a nice route for his return ride home to Houston.  He turned around and gave a big smile and a wave and was off like the wind.  Safe travels, Mr. Berry!

Dancing Around the Subject

It happened. I found myself at a real crossroads. One morning after walking with a friend, I thought with complete and utter dread about a meeting I had planned to attend. That’s not like me. I thought more about the meeting and asked my friend if she was attending. When she told me, “No, I never attend those meetings,” I was shocked. I sort of thought it was mommy mandatory. As silly as it sounds, I didn’t know I had an option.

I began to assess the situation. I didn’t want to volunteer to be in charge of anything. If I didn’t go to this meeting, I couldn’t be asked to be in charge of anything or feel compelled to raise may hand to volunteer again, as I had done so many times before. I was starting to get the picture and found myself searching for a way to give myself permission not to go.

I thought about my calendar. To attend this meeting, I would have to miss my tap class. I clearly cannot be two places at once. I had just started back with my tapping and had recently met a number of new and wonderful ladies tapping and laughing and having a grand time. My heart and my feet longed for the tap class.

Was I just being selfish? Is it okay to do something I wanted to do instead of something I felt obligated to do? This was unchartered territory for me.

I began to reflect and those words I had heard so many times before came flooding through my mind. “You are a selfish girl! The world doesn’t revolve around you.” I felt myself let out an audible sigh. Maybe it was selfish to do something that made me feel alive and exhilarated instead of sitting in a meeting and hearing the same tried and true message, albeit important. It was certainly more noble and selfless to give my time to an organization dedicated to children, but I just didn’t have it in me.

Instantly 10 imaginary hoops appeared before my eyes and I envisioned myself jumping through hoop after hoop. Over and over again, I was reaching and stretching and doing and then, all of a sudden, I couldn’t even remember what I was working toward. I was completely burned out. I couldn’t raise my hand for one more thing. I was officially done.

Feeling like much less of a person than a few minutes earlier, I tried to validate my belief that I am NOT a selfish person. I am a person who love, love, loves children. I adore seniors. I appreciate their lined faces, their stories, their lessons to share. I think back to that little bunny that just hopped across the bike path during my walk and smile. I even love the little woodland creatures. And just like that, it hit me.

I am a middle-aged

Disney Princess

in TAP SHOES!

The visual made me laugh out loud. I could just see myself in some fabulous ball gown, hair in tendrils flowing down my back. A little bird perched upon my finger as I break out into song and dance. I was laughing, and it felt great! I laughed right past the guilt, obligation and sense of duty. I gave myself permission to be ME again, whoever that girl is today. I’m sort of still looking for her.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the things that you do. It’s extremely hard for me to tell someone, “No, I can’t help.” As much as I’ve been told how selfish I am, it’s really not in my nature not to help. I’m grateful to all those friends (Amy, Cheryl, Charlie, Martha, Sherry, Kendra, etc.) who have reassured me that I haven’t a selfish bone in my body. 

For me, this “picking and choosing” where and what I do has been liberating. No longer am I weighed down and burdened. I’m finding time to enjoy the little things. I can notice them now. I SEE them. I don’t want to ever go back to the over-committed, consumed, over-achiever, “what am I trying to prove?” person that I once was. What I want, is to use my gifts where they can help the most. Spreading myself too thin didn’t help anyone. I’m living and laughing and dancing every chance I get. Won’t you join me?

Five Things

Sometimes you just know God is trying to tell you something. Recently, a friend posted a little ditty about 5 things that will ensure you have a miserable week. When I read this, I really took notice:

Having a miserable week is easy; just do these five things each day:
• worry a lot
• focus on getting rich
• compare yourself to others
• cling to unrealistic expectations
• be 10 minutes late everywhere you go.

Seriously, who wants that? But it's easy for one bad choice to lead to another; adding up to a rotten week. Wise words.

Well let me tell you. I am a self-professed fretter. I usually justify it as anticipating and troubleshooting, but if I was honest with myself, I would call it worrying. I worry if I’ll get it all done. I worry if I’ve made the right decision. I worry if my family will like the dinner I’ve prepared. I worry if I’m good enough, if I’m doing enough, if I’m even close to getting it right.

I have to cut myself some slack because I never focus on getting rich. That makes me laugh a little. I don’t buy lottery tickets, I don’t gamble, I don’t even have a paying job. I am not focused on getting rich in the least. Charlie might even say I might be focused on making us not rich.

But when my eyes rolled over “compare yourself to others” my heart sank. I was convicted. I am always doing a little “measuring”.  I sometimes think about the career woman who wears stylish shoes and fashionable clothes. I think that she “gets to go to lunch” at nice places with interesting people. I think about my trivial errands or silly volunteer work and feel extremely inadequate. I notice the beautiful girl parked next to me at Target. I notice her beautifully coordinated, perfectly fitting, workout attire and I grimace at my lumps and bumps. The skort that I love to wear because it’s so comfortable suddenly seems so frumpy. I have skipped over everything positive about myself and highlighted every flaw, real or imagined. Comparing yourself to others serves no purpose other than to fill you with self-doubt and accentuate every little insecurity.

Do I cling to unrealistic expectations? I am almost certain of it. I expect people to do the right thing. I expect my children to do what I ask the first time I ask them. I expect my husband to read my mind. I expect every stop light to be green. I expect the puppy to “do his business” immediately when I take him out. I suffer from chronic unrealistic expectations which leads to chronic aggravation.

Late? Well, let’s just start out by saying I was two weeks late gracing the world with my presence at the time of my birth. I am late. I am a late riser. I’m a late-night person. I’m late even when I’m trying to be early. I make myself late. My children not meeting my unrealistic expectations make me late. My dog who takes forever to do his business makes me late. My husband usually tells me we have to leave 15 minutes before we really do, because he knows I’m always late. “Tara Time” is late. I hate being late. It drives me nuts and I can see how it can really add to making a miserable week.

So this little helpful hint really got me thinking. I don’t want to have a miserable week. I decided to be proactive and to change the way I approach these problem areas.

• Worry. Well, I still have my share of worries, but I am making a conscious effort to pray when I worry. I pray for peace, for strength, for patience, for direction. I pray. When I pray I seem to think about all the things I am grateful for. When I am grateful, there is no room for worry. My load is instantly lighter.

• Focus on getting rich. Well, I am focusing on spending my money wisely. I’m balancing needs and wants. I’m focusing on sharing what I have with others.

• Compare yourself to others. I am thinking about the amazing things my body did to bring my two precious girls into this world. I may not have a terrific career and lunch with interesting people in wonderful places, but I am blessed to be home with my children. I am free to volunteer in their schools, pick them up in carline, and personally deliver them to their dance classes. Maybe there are working moms out there who wish they could do that, too. I am giving myself permission to shut that little guilt door and not getting my self-worth or validation from how I think I measure up to the person next to me. I am reminding myself that we are human. We all have ups and downs, highs and lows, good and bad, struggles and triumphs. The honest to goodness truth is that we just don’t know what the other person has been through or might be going through right this minute. These kinds of comparisons are not uplifting or encouraging. They are counter-productive and are based on skewed data. It’s unusable. It’s irrelevant.

• Cling to unrealistic expectations. A wise man once told me that if you don’t “expect” anything, you can’t be disappointed. Expectations are not a bad thing. It’s the unrealistic aspect that gets me into trouble. I am breathing a lot more these days. I am shifting gears. I’ve spent most of my life trying to be perfect. If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t achieved perfection yet. I will never be perfect. Perfection is unrealistic. Letting this go is truly liberating. And I will be completely honest. I still have some serious expectations. They are well-conceived, highest of the high, but with a little grace, mercy and forgiveness woven in there too.

• Being late. This one I’m still working on, but instead of telling myself I have to walk out the door at 11:45, I tell myself 11:40. I know this is difficult to believe, but I’ve actually been early a few times this week. I know, it’s unheard of!

God used an email that a friend received and chose to share on Facebook to minister to me. Those words really affected me. They got me thinking and based on all that thinking, I’ve been making changes. Those changes have made my days a little less stressful and a lot more productive. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my Father was blessing me through others. He reached right out to me through others. He is an amazing God and He knows exactly what I need. He knows my heart like no other.  And you know what?  He wants to do exactly the same thing for you.

The Tradition of the "Birthday Frock"

Birthdays are a rite of passage. We all have them. You might have noticed, as I have most recently, that birthdays seem to be a lot more fun when you are young and there is a slip ‘n slide involved. I have always adored birthdays. I love the celebration, the cake, the presents, but most of all, I love the birthday frock.



“What is a birthday frock?” you ask.


Well, it is that fabulous little number you get especially for your special day.


I have had a number of them over the years. One in particular stands out in my mind. I believe it was on my 19th birthday. My Aunt Bobbie gave me a beautiful, albeit simple, pale pink sleeveless dress with a draped neckline. I wore it on my birthday. My grandmother made spaghetti and the most wonderful three layered strawberry cake. My dress matched the cake! And I felt FABULOUS!


When I was in college one summer, I was taking Public Relations. Ben Hobbs was my professor. He had a reputation for being tough as nails and was unpopular with the Communications students. I know for a fact that his bark was far worse than his bite, and he was really quite the softie underneath all that gruff. Having an August birthday, I had never had to attend school on my actual birthday. I was devastated to learn that not only was I going to be in class on my birthday, but I was going to have a major presentation. We were supposed to present in business attire, but since it was my birthday, I pleaded with Mr. Hobbs to allow me to wear my new birthday frock. I thought he was going to fall out of his old, rickety, rolling chair. He agreed as long as it wasn’t my birthday “suit”. I wish I had a picture of that one. It was floral (forest green with bright coral and purple flowers) with a portrait collar and long flowing skirt—definitely NOT business attire.


So through the years, I’ve always gotten a birthday frock.

On my 22nd birthday, my grandmother sent me to Saks Fifth Avenue, armed with her charge card. Katie, the saleslady, had a dressing room filled with beautiful cocktail dresses in my size when I arrived. I chose a fabulous white lace sheath with a square neckline. I wore it to the ballet, “Cinderella”. THAT was a fabulous birthday frock. 


By the time my 23rd birthday rolled around, I was in the working world and actually having to WORK on my birthday. I bought a Maggie of London dress with big black buttons down the back that year and wore it with beautiful black pumps. I also enjoyed dinner at Butterazzi’s that night and was later surprised with a limo full of friends for a fun night on the town.

Apparently in my younger years,
the birthday frocks were rather SHORT!

Each birthday was different, but always great fun. Some years the birthday frocks were simpler than others.

Then there was the one when I was rained on.

One year, my dress actually had fringe on the bottom.

And I really liked that one!

Then there was the halter phase I went through…

I spent this birthday in Napa sampling tasty wines
and dining at Etoille at Domaine Chandon.

Last year, Charlie surprised me with a private chef and a delicious meal. It was perfect for my
"aloha-wear" birthday frock. We celebrated at home, but with style

But this year I didn’t buy my own birthday frock. I saw it in a little catalog that came in the mail and I showed it to Charlieman and commented that it would be the perfect birthday frock. Then I found it in a perfect little box, with a perfect little bow, in my perfect size (thank goodness I can still fit into it!).

 

 

Every girl should have a birthday frock! And every girl should be so lucky to have a fellow who uses his selective hearing selectively and still relishes in spoiling and surprising her.

So don’t let another birthday go by without getting a birthday frock. Take it from me, you’re totally worth it! ; )

Only in The Woodlands

There comes a time in a dog's life when the nails need to be clipped.  Now, I'll be honest with you and admit that I have dog nail trimmers and I have used this apparatus some 8 or so years ago on my beloved dog, TD (may he rest in peace).  I will also tell you that I would rather trim a newborn baby's nails with hedgetrimmers than to clip a dog's nails.  It's just frightening.  You can't tell what is nail and what is nail bed and the yelp that follows a clip to the nail bed is blood curdling. 

So what's a dog owner to do? 

We have no choice but to harness that puppy up and head to the doggie nail salon.

"We're going WHERE?"

That's right, we're going to take this puppy to have his nails clipped.  Who would have ever thought it would turn in to such an adventure. 

"I don't know about you, 
but this does NOT sound like a good idea to me."

So we headed out to "Natural Paws" for a little mani-pedi for our little pup.  It was a MAD HOUSE!  Two big dogs were in for grooming.  They were barking and carrying on and Beau just looked at them as if he was wondering why they would allow dogs in this place. 

It was almost like being in "Gina Nails" (and no, I didn't leave the apostrophe "s" off of Gina).  A little gal who looked like she was one of the girls who works at Gina Nails quickly clipped Beau's nails.  Then she pulled out her handy dandy nail drill (just like the ones they use for acryllic nails) and filed his nails.  No polish for Beau since he has those puffy paws.  Just a buff and shine and we were out the door. 

So now Beau has perfectly manicured paws.




And newly trimmed pads.

"Seriously?"

It's amazing what you can find in the Woodlands.  Let's just all be thankful that we have the good sense not to get this dog's nails painted shocking pink!  And for the record, I think Beau enjoyed his little outing.  He's completely metro-sexual.

Why It's Good to be a Barbie

Now friends, all of you have heard the FABULOUS story about how Santa saved the "strep throat Christmas" by bringing ME the Barbie Party Bus.

Charlie dutifully put every piece together and every last decal into place.  Never had Barbie had such a fantastic ride.  Of course that's when it occurred to me that I had no Barbies with which to play in the Barbie Party Bus.  This would not do and I was not about to use the "Bad Hair Barbie" cast offs of the girls. 

So I waited patiently until the next Christmas.  And much to my SURPRISE, I received, not one, not two, but THREE uniquely different, ready to party, Barbies! 

So now we're ready for business!  It takes a "village" to create a proper Barbie scenario, so I invited the princesses to engage in a little poolside Barbie play.

We are definitely "safety girls" so our Barbies have only expertly qualified lifeguards.  We find that mermaids make excellent lifeguards.  All Barbies, even Mermaid Barbies, must limit their sun exposure.  These lovely ladies prefer Australian Gold SPF 30 with Instant Bronzer for that Barbie Girl Fun Glow!

Now, you may be wondering if that Barbie Party Bus actually sees some play time, but you will be glad to know that our Barbies want for nothing.  They have their own pool, as you can see, as well as their own mobile hot tub with lights and music.

And to be perfectly honest, I've relaxed a bit about all the little pieces, because, let's face it.  It's no fun to play Barbies with the Barbie Nazi looking over your shoulder constantly harping on all those little pieces getting lost, blah, blah, blah.  So we're rolling out the Barbie Party Bus for weekly fun in the sun.  Now all that's missing is a Ken with his head still attached.  Those dang Kens' heads just keep popping off.  I think that cell block tango from Chicago, might have something to do with it.  "He had it coming, you should have seen it.  If you'd have been there, bet you would have done the same....I fired two warning shots, into his head...."  Gotta LOVE Chicago!  ; )

Turning Over a New Leaf

I am a terrible blogger. It's official. Probably somewhere in the cyberworld of blogging, there is my picture with "Lazy Lima Bean" embossed across the bottom.

I have such good intentions and I truly want to document every little detail of every little thing I do, but quite frankly, I get caught up in DOING something fun rather than writing about it. Like floating in the pool with my precious puppy, Beau.

But all that's going to change! I have been inspired by my blogging sister friends. I am amazed at the clever posts and colorful photos. Quite frankly, I suffer from blog envy.

So, just get ready for news, opinions, chuckles and much more. I aim to please! So for now, let me leave you with a glimpse into my life.

This is merely a sample of the fabulous spa treatments available right here in my very own back yard. You see this incredible mud has unbelievable healing properties. It's often expertly applied and baked on.

Additional treatments are also available. Please call ahead for an appointment as walk-ins are not accepted. Stay tuned for more summer adventures...

Charlie's Birthday Bash

Good friends joined me in wishing Charlie a very happy birthday! Lots of laughter rang through the house as the children decorated a gingerbread house and made stockings.

(John & Connie McCarty, Charlie, Bill & Kendra Clough & their daughter, Kendall)


The night would have never happened without my girlfriends (why is Connie not in this picture????). Because it was a surprise, nothing was prepared ahead of time so everyone pitched in to get our party foods rocking.

A party's not a party without a little karaoke. The girls and I love to sing it loud and sing it proud on Fun Friday nights. Charlie and I do a killer "Love Shack" and we laughed and sang (terribly, I might add). Later we karaoked to Christmas favorites and a little Madonna. The kids got into the fun with a little Taylor Swift.

Thankfully you cannot hear the audio. : )

But I am sure you can tell a good time was had by all.

Gracen was cracking up at the video Steven was shooting. Heaven help us if that ever shows up somewhere! Charlie might have been suspicious that something was planned, but we all had a great time!

The Barbie Party Bus

When I was a little girl, I loved Barbies. I was the original Barbie girl and back in the day it was fashionable to play with Barbies (unlike today when 2nd graders are ridiculed for any Barbie reference). Way back in the 70’s, Malibu Barbie and her pals PJ, Ken and Skipper spent their days in the sun driving along in the Malibu Barbie Bus. There was a Barbie pool, the Malibu Barbie house, a Barbie townhouse, and Barbie even got a tan with real tan lines.

Now, I realize this sounds like sour grapes, but you see, my Barbies didn’t have the Malibu Barbie Bus, or the corvette, or any other fabulous Barbie vehicle. We drove shoeboxes at my house. Quite frankly Dr. Terry Brazelton would probably tell you that I had it better than those girls with all the Barbie accessories because I was forced to use my imagination. But really, have you driven a shoebox?

There is something magical about the toy aisles before Christmas. They have so many wonderful options, all made in China, unassembled, complete with tiny parts and decals. For just a minute, I slipped back into those bedazzled bell bottoms and ponytails and stood in amazement at the unbelievable Barbie paraphernalia. I had already purchased the girls’ gifts. I wasn’t supposed to be shopping any more, but there it was, the unattainable, the phenomenal, the absolutely fabulous Barbie Party Bus.

This year we promised to cut back, so I just couldn’t buy it without consulting Charlie. I had only called him four times, but he wouldn’t really mind one more buzz of the cell phone.
“Yes,” he said in an extremely annoyed tone.

“Charlie, I found the mother lode! It’s the most wonderful Barbie accessory of all. It’s a Barbie Party Bus. This thing has its own hot tub! This is AMAZING! Really, do you think we could get it? It’s just one more thing. You won’t believe it! It has lights and music and a REAL hot tub. I’m not kidding! You will not believe this!”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. It was deafening, definite and depressing. And then he said, “No. They do not need that!”

“But Charlie, you don’t understand! My Barbies had to ride in a shoe box. I mean you couldn’t even bend their knees! They had to ride everywhere with their legs sticking straight out. This is like nothing I’ve ever seen!”

“Who is this for? You or the girls?” he retorted.

He was right. They didn’t need anything more. We had promised to cut back and we had finished with their shopping. Hope’s birthday was coming up. Maybe we could get it then. It would give me two more months to convince him that it was something the girls would love. And that was it. I turned from the Barbie Party Bus and walked away. I was a little wistful, but I had to be the adult. I simply walked away.

The hustle and bustle of the holiday season proceeded. There were classroom parties to plan. There were salt dough gingerbread boys and girls to be made and decoupaged. Friends were in town and we were going out. Family would be coming in to celebrate Christmas.

Then without warning, my throat seemed a little sore. I felt a little tired. I was chillier than usual. And quicker than St. Nick could fly up the chimney, I had 101.5 temperature and I was on my way to the doctor’s office. I had a raging case of Strep Throat and was sick as a dog, three days before Christmas. I surrendered. Sometimes you get to a place where you have no fight left in you. You can do nothing but take your anti-biotic and lie down. I was there.

Each day I got a little better. I even made it to Christmas Eve services to hear the girls sing with the praise team. As the evening drew to an end, I found myself very tired and a little down. I didn’t feel well and it didn’t feel like Christmas! I would just have to muddle through.

Christmas morning is always great fun. The most enjoyable part of the morning is watching the girls unwrap their gifts and delight in the surprises Santa has left for them. Never did I expect to find something under the tree for me, from Santa. So on this Christmas morning, I was transported back in time to a place where we wore Holly Hobby nightgowns and crocheted slippers. For a moment in time, I was the sleepy-eyed little girl, discovering her fabulous gifts in great surprise. There were sparks of magic in the air, laughter, tears and wonderment.

In a big pink box there was a Barbie Party Bus, complete with lights, sounds and most importantly a hot tub, under the tree with a big gift tag reading, “To: Tara, From: Santa”. I think for a moment we were all a little confused. I read the tag and began to laugh and in a flash, I was back in the seventies, with MaMa and PaPa there behind me, Aunt Bobbie saying, “Tara, you must have been a very good girl”, my mother and daddy taking pictures with their Kodak Insta-Matic with the flashbulb cube and my brother grumbling about how I get all the good toys.

I looked up at Charlie in utter disbelief and caught him staring with a gleam in his eye and a smile as big as Dallas. He had captured the Christmas magic of years gone by. He had saved the “Strep Throat Christmas” and given me the most precious gift a girl could ever imagine. I’ve been blessed to receive beautiful jewelry, precious stones, diamonds, the finest perfume, expensive clothes; but this year, it was the gift of love from a wonderful husband who wanted to give me Christmas ’76—bigger , better and totally Barbie!

I don’t know how you can top that!

The Green Drink

I have this friend, Laurie, who has been carrying around a mason jar with some funky looking liquid in it, drinking it. No, not moonshine. I finally asked her about it and I learned all about juicing and how the enzymes in raw vegetables (preferably green ones) have super anti-oxidant properties, plus a whole lot more. Now don't get me wrong. I was still VERY skeptical, but I am adventurous so I decided that I would let Laurie make me a "green drink".

She kept telling me, "It's really not that bad."

It wasn't bad at all. It was sort of strangely refreshing. Before I went down to Macy's and spent a small fortune on a tremendously FABULOUS Breville Juicer, I thought I had better have Laurie make me a few more green drinks. So I carried all my vegetables down to Laurie’s and she made me my own little mason jars full of green drinks. I started sipping and before I knew it, I was not hungry. I was very satisfied. I had energy. I just felt great! It had to be the green drinks, right?

Well, I went to Macy's and bought a fancy-shmancy juicer and a new high powered blender to boot. You never know when you're going to need to whip up a good frozen margarita. I stocked up on the best organic green vegetables that HEB had to offer and I was in business. I found that the "green lemonade" recipe and my many variations of it make the best concoctions.

Here's my recipe:

1 lemon (no need to peel, just juice the whole little yellow enzyme machine)

1 apple (2 if they are itsy bitsy apples)

2 stalks of celery

2 carrots

1 bunch of cilantro

1 head of Romaine lettuce

1 large cucumber (sometimes 2 if I'm feeling froggy)

Okay, here's the key. You don't want to drink your green drink from a Mason jar. No offense, Laurie, but presentation is extremely important when you're talking about drinking seriously GREEN liquid. So, I highly recommend drinking it from a footed crystal iced beverage glass with a straw, of course! If you ever want to give Green Drinks a go, just pop over around 10 AM and I'll whirl one out for you! Yes, I really drink these!