Really? Again.

I friggin' hate tamoxifen.  And, yes, this is another post about how I hate tamoxifen.  The regular migraines.  The weight gain despite eating less.  The irritability. 

OH THE IRRITABILITY.  (On the other hand, it's not too much to ask that all the laundry - the socks, the underwear, the pants the swimsuits and the sweatshirts don't all go in the same drawer.  I think most people have a reasonable expectation, and expedite in practice, the theory that separate items of clothing belong in separate drawers.)

My poor family.  There is nothing NOTHING they can say to me right now that is going to be a reasonable statement, comment, or question.  Because my hair looks terrible and I am very tired.  Ten hours just doesn't cut it anymore.  Also I want to petition right now that synchronized diving is no longer an olympic sport.  If that can be an olympic sport then so can Zumba. 

And my poor son.  Never in his eleven years has he ever once been prepared for school or summer camp the night before.  But today, for the first time ever, I snapped at him about it.  (That being said, it's good to know he can be scared of me.  That could come in handy in a few years.)

Anyway,  my husband wants me to stop taking this drug.  I DON'T KNOW WHY HE CAN'T JUST BE FRIGGIN HAPPY THAT I AM DOING THIS SO HE HAS A BETTER CHANCE OF HAVING ME AROUND FOR LONGER. 

Party On

Y'all.  I'm hosting a big party.  The last time I hosted a party, jell-o shots played a predominate role in the menu, so you know its been awhile.  In my defense, they were white grape/champagne jell-o shots because I was throwing a classy party.

I am fairly confident, however, that the music will be the same. 

I wish I could tell you the theme but all my friends are so excited about the theme that they have been googling the theme and getting stuff to share at the party.  And we can't have them finding this blog, as herein we have discussed that at least one of them needs rehab.  And after much discussion with my counselor, it is not my place to intervene.  However, I can provide very small wine glasses.  Or, in reality, normal size wine glasses it's just at some point everybody I know started serving wine in water goblets so we could all say, "Oh I just had two glasses."  Two glasses that hold one bottle of wine.  Because if you actually look in the wine glass section at Crate and Barrel you wonder when they started selling glass thimbles.

Anyway, this was all just a big excuse to buy a pair of earrings and I couldn't justify the earrings unless I had a place to where them, and I wasn't going to come across that place unless I created it myself.  So, a pair of $35 earrings and here we are . . .

No Piggies

Can we say that if you are over the age of 60 you are not allowed to put your hair in pigtails.  In fact, can we say that if you are over the age of 5 you are not allowed to put your hair in pigtails.  Pretty much 60 is not close to 5 so there is really no room for interpretation here. 

If only I had my camera.  I promise that when I upgrade my phone on August 18th I will use said phone to record these things.  (Did I tell you my Nikon digital just died.  Just one day died.  May it rest in peace.  I liked my Cannon digital better anyway.  And my phone and the camera thereon is on its last legs, having nothing to do with the fact that for the past two years I have dropped it at least once daily because the ergonomics of carrying a chai and a cell phone in the same hand while opening a door are not great.)

I will also record my weekend trips.  You know I am not a Rocky Mountain person.

However.

I am madly in love with Steamboat Springs.  It is perfect.  There is a paved bike trail along the Yampa River, a waterfall hike, usually a hot air balloon taking off by the tennis center, and fairly decent Tex-Mex.  And do you know what I totally love about it - it is completely unpretentious.  This coming from me who never minded a little pretention (as in Dallas pretention, not I am cooler than you because I am outfitted for mountain climbing at a moments notice pretention).  Anyway, everybody is welcome and everybody is friendly in Steamboat Springs. (Except apparently for me who cannot abide by blonde old ladies wearing pigtails.  But come on.  That's just icky.  That's icky like the word panties or that scum that Robert Irvine is always finding in the places on Restaurant Impossible.)

Defies Belief

Last night I witnessed . . . AN ADULT LICKING HER PLATE.  Licking.  As in picked it up and licked it.  Today I have my review with my boss over lunch.  Could you imagine if I PICKED UP MY PLATE AND LICKED IT.  When my husband and I spend our anniversary at the Four Seasons in Lana'i, can you imagine if I PICKED UP MY PLATE AND LICKED IT.  Or just, say tonight at dinner, in front of my husband and my son . . . No.  No you cannot imagine.  Yet I saw something like it happen with my own eyes.  

Dear Nordstrom Personal Shopper

1.  Never say, "You're a lawyer, you can afford it." 
2.  Never say, "Sorry my breath smells like peanut butter."  Just carry mints.
3.  When I ask in advance to see three specific things, I would like, at some point during that appointment, for you to show me those three things.
4.   Fake your approval when I tell you I want Frye cowboy boots, not riding boots.  Asking me why in disgust is not appropriate, and then brining me riding boots anyway is just annoying.
5.   When the sales associate next to you tells me that you should pre-sale the items to me so I can get double Nordstrom points, you don't act put out and say, "You have enough points already."

I returned the items I got that day.  Nordstrom I expect better.  I am inclined to go back to the Mother Ship.  (Neimans)

Intervention

I have a friend who needs an intervention.  For more than one thing. 

Living large is fun, only then its not.  Then it is the same story every time.

But is it my role to say something?
Shouldn't her husband be stepping up?
At some point don't you have a responsibility to yourself and your children?

I Have Seen the Crystal Light

I thought I would take a moment to explain my hiatus.  I had a migraine that went off and on (mostly on) for the better part of two weeks.  I was so tired of being in pain that I began to take big steps to address anything that might be causing the pain.  I cut out coffee.  I know, right?  I was seriously in that much pain.  I cut out artificial sweetners, except for two sips of Coke Zero every night because Coke Zero is about the only thing that sounds good when I am in pain.  All I drink instead is Crystal Light Pure, and lots of it.  (I know two things about myself- I will not drink just plain water and I will not eat lettuce).  Despite the pain, I joined a gym with lots of great yoga classes because the doctor said to do yoga.   The first yoga class I thought I was going to throw up.  But I didn't.  Slowly I started to have more moments where I felt normal than when I felt piercing pain.  (Finally I felt well enough to take an Africa Jazz dance class.  And it was so much fun!  Until we danced to a jazzed up version of The Circle of Life, which was a bit too on point.)  

Anyway, things are much better these days.  One Starbucks I know just took a giant hit on their bottom line, but on the other hand I would buy stock in Crystal Light Pure if I were you.

I'm fairly certain this has a lot to do with the tamoxifen.  You know what would make me feel even better?  A puppy.  Y'all.  There is this sweet little french bulldog at the french bulldog rescue page that, according to her story, was given C-Sections with a craft knife at her former home, yet she is still so sweet at her foster home that when another puppy takes her Snausage she just politely asks for another one.  Someone in the blog world has to adopt this dog.  Her name is Lilac.  You could call her Lila. 

Well At Least We Know Who To Blame

It doesn't rain in this State.  Ever.  Sometimes it will threaten to, or even start to, but it is so dry that the drops never reach the ground.  And it certainly didn't rain when the State was on fire and before they got those fires contained.

But then it did rain the weekend of the festival.  The very expensive festival where The Franchise had a booth.  It rained so hard that there was a river going through our booth and our pans floated down the street.  They shut down the festival early.  And none of the vendors expected to break even - this being a big festival,the entrance fee was outrageous. 

And I am fine, but I got in an accident in my husband's truck.

Clearly you know whose fault this is.  George W. Bush.  Anyway, I remember once them saying that with global warming that Aspen was going to become the temperature of Texas.  Well guess what.  The fires and the floods and the heat.  The Gods are angry my friends.