A pile of mush I say

I woke up with red, puffy eyes this morning. Junior probably thought I had ridden to work on a motorcycle and all the bugs in my eyes caused my eyes to water and blow up like a couple of Hubba Bubba bubbles, but he didn't say anything to that effect when we changed shifts. This is the weekend my sister and nieces are moving to Nebraska, and I'm sad. They leave tomorrow morning.

Angela and I were at my sister's house last night to help her finish putting her life in boxes, and after an hour or so I had to sneak off to the bathroom for a short cry. My sister and I have lived close to each other for most of our lives, and now this seems like this will be a permanent split since she's going back to the place where we grew up, and Angela and I are committed to our jobs and our lives in Dallas.

My sis has Jada and Ciara now, so the missin' is tripled. Goodbyes suck. Angela tried to teach Jada to say, "See ya later alligator" last night as we were leaving and although she studied Angela's llinguistics for awhile all she could come up with was, "Bye bye gator." It was too cute. I need football season to start like, this afternoon, so I can launch myself into something that makes me silly happy. Or Angela and I need to get pregnant. That's not a leap.

I may delete this post after a day or two so no one will know what a sensitive, over-analytical loon I am. But I don't think that's something I hide very well anyway.

Football Freak

Football season is near! I'm an absolute freak this time of year. I love all sports, but just thinking about the corner of our NFL Sunday Ticket enhanced screen lighting up whenever the Colts enter the red zone just makes me all warm and tingly inside. And Chris Berman's player nicknames...does it get any better than Mike You're in Good Hands with Alstott?

This is my Pittsburgh Steelers football helmet from third grade. It still sits on display on a table in our game room (and sometimes on my head), but as you can see it doesn't really fit anymore. The Steelers were my team back then. I figured I could pick any team because we lived in rural Nebraska and even though the Broncos and Chiefs were the closest to home and on TV every Sunday, I didn't really care for either one. Terry Bradshaw and Franco Harris just did it for me. And the Steelers were the team all the boys at school liked. I wanted them to think I was cool so they would let me play football with them at recess.

Now I'm all about the Colts. I haven't been a lifelong fan, but I became a Peyton Manning nut while he was at Tennessee and I tracked him like a stalker once he got to the NFL, and now I've been sucked into all things Colts. The Packers are Angela's favorite team because she grew up in Wisconsin. We both like the Cowboys. The Cowboy players leave for training camp today. Yippee!

I love college football too. The Huskers and the Longhorns. I've lived in Lincoln and Austin and I really miss the college football hysteria that takes over on football Saturdays. I used to go to the Sidetrack Tavern in Lincoln the night before a big game and drink draft beer (that I'll never touch again because it gives me migraines) and listen to slightly altered (i.e. pornographic) fight songs that would make Husker fans scream with delight and Colorado fans (or whoever the sorry opponent would be the next day) weep with embarassment and then threaten to hand us our derrieres on a silver platter. It was great.

Here's to six months of spinach dip, wings, and thrilling 4th quarter wins! I need a Colts helmet for the next blog.

Pastey White Peril

My dermatologist told me once that I'm so pastey white I need to wear sunscreen even when I'm sitting inside next to a window. Of course I don't. I've never gotten a sunburn that way, but I'm sure she would tell me window-filtered sun can damage the skin over time or something. But wearing sunscreen inside is just crazy nuts. There are already screens on the windows and that's good enough for me.

Sunscreen outside is different--that's a must for me. I was good all last week on the golf course and applied spf 50 to my face, ears, and neck before every round, and I used 35 on my arms and legs. No sunburn anywhere! It was great. My mom even said I was getting tan by the end of the week. I usually don't hear me and tan in the same breath unless I'm wearing khaki.

But we got back to Texas and mowed our lawn on Sunday (Angela always mows while I weed-eat and putter around the plants in the backyard), and after that we went to my sister's house and mowed her lawn, and by the time that was over we had been outside for about three hours. With no sunscreen. But the only pastey white skin that really burned is from my elbows to my shoulders. Don't know why. If only I had worn my Peyton Manning jersey with sleeves, instead of the sleeveless Houston Comets Swoopes jersey. But now the psycho in me is going to be monitoring the moles in the burned area for any visible change, and I may even measure them and keep the notes in a diary. I'll accept the freak label.

At least Angela is bronze and savage.

Hat insanity

What can I possibly say about this picture. This is me on vacation, having a wee of a time with my crazy parents. They make me laugh! They swear that they did not intend to dress alike that day with the matching shirts and jeans, but after seeing how insanely coordinated they look with the hats in this picture, I'm beginning to wonder. They often dress up like cows and ride around in a cow mobile and enter local parades, so it would not be beyond them to try to make a theme night out of this. I obvoiusly didn't get the message.

I must explain the hats. When Angela and I relocated to the Dallas area almost four years we moved into a subdivision that was under construction, so there were various things lying in the street - nails, two by fours, hats, etc. When my parents came to see the house while it was still under construction, my dad found this beat-up old hat out in the street and he immediately thought it was cool and put it on. There were no workers around that day, so it was finder's keepers and my dad decided to snag it. You can still see the initials SLP in front if you look closely enough. These initials should be on the side, but my dad likes to wear the hat sideways. He says it fits better that way.

The hats my mom and I are wearing are just afterthoughts compared to Dad's centerpiece. My mom wears this hat sometimes when she's outside watering plants. She's outside for eons because she has so many to water, and this hat works just as well as an umbrella. And my hat...well, I used to love this hat when I was growing up, but the reasons that I loved it so much aren't obvious to me anymore. It's too tight because I have an enormous forehead, and it has flaps that fold down to cover one's ears, I suppose to keep the wind from whippin' ya if you're hunting during the winter, which I did with my dad on occasion growing up, but I stopped as soon as I figured out pheasants had feelings. I think I used to wear this hat mostly while riding the three-wheeler for hours around a make-shift track that circled my parent's house. It has flannel lining on the inside plus the ear flaps, so it always kept my head nice and toasty. Now it just makes my head hot because it's too small.

So these are my crazy parents! It's apparent now that I will only grow more insane with age.

Vacation check-in

Hi! I said in my last post that Angela and I were going to help my dad build a deck while we were on vacation. Well, we've been at my parents' house for five days and I haven't done squat! I have decided that I really don't understand wood or how to fasten it to other pieces of wood enough to really be helpful, so I have removed myself from hammering detail and I've designated myself as Dad and Angela's official water filler-upper. And I made lemonade once. I would only hold up their progress if I actually tried to screw a 1x8 to the joyce or whatever it is thay're doing, so when I'm not refilling their drinks I'm bonding with Mom over family photgraphs, or I'm in the basement on the treadmill sticking to my exercise routine. I can't stand the feeling of eating too much without burning some of it off--even on vacation--and between my parents and my grandma we've been eating well. Smoked ribs, sour cream raisin pie...Mmm mmm good. I just don't want any of it to attach to my middle.

Oh, every time my mom says she's going to go outside and take a picture of the deck progress, I run outside, pick up a hammer and a chisel, and sneak into the picture. It works best if I have just gotten off of the treadmill and I'm all sweaty, cuz then it looks like I'm really giving it my all. My dad and Angela can hardly see me through the sweat that's gushing in and clouding their own eyes, so they barely even know I'm there. My mom and I get a good laugh out of it though.

I shot a pretty good round of golf on Monday, but after the first nine holes on Tuesday my game went downhill and it stayed in the gutter through Wednesday. But I bought a new putter that afternoon, and I used it for the first time today. Wow! I shot a 95...my best round ever. I even birdied the last hole. Angela still beat my be two strokes, but I smoked my dad. It's weird to beat the person who taught you the game. We've played 72 holes so far this week and we'll play 18 more tomorrow.

Did you know they make wine in Nebraska? And it's awesome. Mac's Creek Winery in Lexington - this little town of ten thousand, about twenty minutes from where my parents live. (My parents' town only has 761 people in it. It used to have 763, but my sister and I left. Now my sister is moving back with two kids, so there will be a spike in the population.) We didn't get as crazy with the wine tasting as they did in Sideways, but we did sample five wines each and we got to keep the glasses. We're bringing four bottles back to Texas for our crab cake and shrimp scampi date nights.

So that's the Nebraska scoop. We've entertained the thought of moving back here someday because it's so cheap, relaxing, and close to family, but I'm sure we'll snap out of it once we get back to Dallas. But ya never know.

I'll also have to snap out of this sleeping until 6:30, at the golf course by 7:45 thing. This is the perfect life. Especially now that the deck is finished and there is an extra spot to chill after our round. I need to go sit on the deck now to fully enjoy the fruits of Dad and Angela's labor. Maybe I can get Mom to take a picture.

Nuts

My niece Jada is two years old today. She only weighed a little over 4 pounds when she was born in 2003 and the doctors called her a little peanut. She's not quite a brazil nut yet, but she has grown into at cashew at least. Angela and I crack ourselves up with nut comparisons. I'm a slow-roasted, hickory smoked almond because it's usually a slow process getting to know me and I'm not the type you can just assume that everyone is going to get right away. Angela is a honey-roasted peanut because she's a little sweet, everyone likes her, and she fits in at every party. We both have depth of flava. I bet you could come up with a suitable nut for yourself too if you think about it.

We're taking my sister, Jada, and Ciara to lunch today, maybe at a new cajun place in Frisco that has fried pickles. We used to get fried pickles all the time at Katz's Deli in Austin and we have withdrawls every now and then. I hope they serve them with ranch dressing at this place. Okay, so the lunch part of Jada's birthday is mostly for the adults. But then we're going swimming at a friend's pool, and then to my sister's for birthday cake, which will completely violate my no-carbs late in the day rule, but whatcha gonna do.

We're leaving for Nebraska tomorrow right after I get off the air. Golf every morning on vacation, and we're helping my dad build a deck in the afternoons. Seriously. There isn't much else to do in Nebraska, so my dad may as well put Ellen and Rosie to good use. I'll bring the flannel...

Work mode

Angela and I begin our vacation Saturday and I'm finding it difficult to break out of work mode. What's wrong with me? I should be excited about the break and the chance to see my family in Nebraska, but I'm too busy thinking about how easily my co-workers might get along without me to really launch myself into this road trip. Kidd will be back next week and I'll be gone - I usually try to take my vacation when he does for consistency, but the only time Angela could take a vacation this summer is the week of July 18th and Patrick (the boss) said it was fine for me to take that week too. I just don't like being gone when Kidd is live.

I don't just do traffic and Dr. Boothe commercials--I also have midday shows that air in other markets--so I think part of my unwillingness to break away has to do with making sure they're covered. But everyone takes vacations. Get over it already Jenny Sue.

I know why I can't snap out of work mode...Because I'm a control freak, a perfectionist, and an over-achievin', over-driven maniac! It's all about insecurities I suppose.

Jennifer Nettles love

Several months ago I was on the treadmill flipping through channels in search of anything that would take my mind off of the fact that I was sweating and puffing, and CMT was playing the Baby Girl video by Sugarland. I was intrigued. Three members in the group--a hot girl on lead vocals, plus a beautiful woman that was not hot and a dorky sweet guy on guitars and background vocals. You just knew they came together for the music, and not because they were packaged together to sell something. There's beauty in that. I love it when people don't try to be sexy and they totally are. None of them seemed to be too cowboyed up, just natural, fun, and talented. And the lead singer's voice made my spine tingle. Jennifer Nettles.

When our Baton Rouge friends were in town about a month ago we got in the car to go somewhere and I was playing Sugarland, and one of them said something about the lead singer's voice sounding familiar. When I said it was "some girl named Jennifer Nettles" she flipped out and said this girl had a whole library of solo CD's out. Then I started flipping out. You mean there's more to this greatness? We found her website later on and after I had listened to the tracks for about thirty seconds I ordered three CD's. (This is not a paid endorsement, I swear.) She's amazing! I like smart music with a soul, and that's exactly what Jennifer Nettles pumps out.

I love this lyric from Awakening on the Story of Your Bones CD: "I will live out of love and I will act out of fairness, and be the richness that lies beneath the surface of awareness." Deep, and it strikes a chord. And Story of Your Bones just plain makes me melt. There is so much more to Jennifer Nettles than Sugarland. I like Sugarland and I'll probably buy every CD they ever put out, but they can't make me fall flat on the floor like a Jennifer Nettle power ballad can. I probably shouldn't listen to her on the treadmill.

So right now it's Jennifer Nettles on the way to and from work. It centers me and makes me all fresh and happy inside. I do love me some Gwen Stefani and I'm still in love with the new Blackeyed Peas CD, but to be a well-rounded music lover I must continue to broaden my horizons. I hope this Jennifer Nettles fascination is hip. It's Bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S! Fer shizzle.

Minutia

Now that I know people are checking this blog frequently and that all of this typing is not in vain, I will try to update every day. Just know that it may include more randomness and minutia than ever! If you start to get bored, please post a comment or email me (jen@jenaustin.com) and let me know and I'll try to start doing activities that are more blog-worthy.

I woke up in a good mood today. I had four extra minutes to get ready because I didn't have to let the dogs out and then wait on them to do their business--which usually involves the real business and then sniffing around aimlessly just to spite me I'm sure. But today they woke Angela up at 3:25am so she got up and let them out and I didn't have to do it at 3:35 when I got up. So things got off to a good start, but after I showered and put my makeup on and all of that, I put my jeans on and they were WAY too tight. This was a huge bummer. I didn't eat much yesterday and I worked out for 50 mintues instead of 45, so they should have been loose. So I started thinking...what if I accidentally threw these jeans in the dryer and I didn't lay-flat-to-dry as I usually do? I can't be sure that's what happened, but I'm hoping. I would much rather lose a pair of jeans to shrinkage than my own expandage.

I finished with work early and left to get my dang oil changed. I wish cars could just go and go forever without maintenance because it's such a pain, but Pearl needed a lube and I had to oblige. (The Murano is white, hence the name. Angela's Explorer Sport Trac is named Onyx. Guess what color. We're so creative.) But I had to sit at the grease monkey store for 3 and a half hours! For what should have been a ten minute lube. But my dilemma was to either go to the oil change place that was a stone's throw from my house and be done really fast cuz they're never busy, or go to the place that would probably make me wait but could also check my tire for a leak. I picked the tire place. Ugh. They told me up front that it would be an hour and fifteen minutes, which was okay cuz I could write Dr. Boothe commercials fill the time. But after an hour and a half I looked out the window and saw Pearl still parked in the same spot that I left her in. Oh Mylanta. So I asked how much longer it might be, and that was all it took to get them to start working on her immediately. Geesh. But then, one of the guys came back in and said I did indeed have a nail in my right front tire. That actually made me feel good, because at least the discovery of the nail validated my choice in oil change stores and made the wait a little less daunting. Until they got Pearl "stuck on the lift" (whatever that means) and I was delayed another thirty minutes. But now Pearl's puncture wound has been fixed and she's back in the garage, and I'm blogging. All is well.

And I took the tight pants off and put some shorts on, which seem to fit normally. Hurray for shrinkage.

Condiments and Accoutrements

I ate a philly cheesesteak at the Rangers game Saturday night and it was silly good, but I think I may have offended cheesesteak lovers everywhere when I went to the condiment stand and put mustard on it. Are you supposed to put condiments on philly cheesesteaks, or is the beef, cheese, pepper, and onion combination supposed to be enough? I don't know these things. But mustard sounded like a suitable supplement at the time and it was indeed good. We went to the game with Angela's friend Kelli, and after I finished my cheesesteak I helped Kelli chip away at monstrous pile of super nachos that she was just picking at. I was a pig. I wanted an ice cream sundae in an upside-down baseball helmet as well, but I didn't go there. I got those carbs from Miller Lite instead.

I learned a lot from Kelli Saturday night. She explained what a starting pitcher must do to get an official win, and what the closer must do to qualify for a save. I was intrigued. I started watching baseball with my dad when I was about seven, mainly because we only got three channels out in the Nebraska boonies and we didn't have a satellite, so it was either Kansas City Royals games with my dad or Wizard of Oz re-runs and the like with my mom and sister. But I had gone all this time without knowing that Cordero gets the save only if the Rangers are ahead by three runs or less when he enters the game. Fascinating. I love picking Kelli's sports-oriented brain. And she's straight as a board. Go figure.

We were three of the first twenty thousand through the gates, so we each got one of those Ranger hats that they were giving away. Hey, it's better than a bobble-head. I had stopped wearing hats because I thought that was a total give-in to the stereotype and I've always wanted to be an original, but when I finally put this free Ranger hat on in the 6th inning I looked in the reflection of this little concession area behind us and I realized that hats are cute after all. And there were about ten thousand other women in hats there, so this stereotype nonsense was all in my head. So I may try to be a hat hottie sometimes now. Unless the perceived hat hotness Saturday night was just because I was standing next to a baseball field and mixed in with thousands of other hats. Hmm. I better go try it on again.

Weekend workouts and other nonsense

I'm trying to add a workout on the treadmill to my weekend routine. I've been working out 45 minutes a day on the treadmill for about four years now, but mainly Monday through Friday. I'm usually pretty disciplined about food during the week too -- not eating after 5pm or so and trying to limit carbs and all of that evil but tastey white stuff, but then I find myself going on a chips and salsa/flour tortilla binge on the weekends and I ruin the effect of all that discipline during the week. So...rather than limit the weekend carbs, I've decided to add weekend exercise, and then I'll be able to eat whatever I want and I won't feel like a big ole blob on Monday. Genius! Tight pants ruin my day I say.

Besides, we're going to the Rangers game tonight and I will be forced to pig out ballpark style -- lots of carbs well after 5pm. I can't wait. I can't eat those garlic fries because there is just too much guilt involved, so I usually just walk by that concession stand and inhale a big whiff of that heavy, garlicy air and just pretend like I'm munching on a fry. I can't resist walking past the bratwurst stand though. Regular hot dogs give me migraines because of the nitrates, but I can eat brats. Or maybe I'll have a philly cheesesteak. And a Miller Lite. There are no carbs there, right? Hmm, perhaps I'll make it 50 minutes on the treadmill. We're mowing the lawn today too and it will be my job to walk around the yard with the pooper scooper and then the weed eater. Both can get heavy. That's good --at least I won't have to lift weights afterward.

I'm getting hungry thinking about food, so I have to go curb my appetite now with a Viactiv calcium chew. Dang discipline.

I'm becoming a big pile of mush

My sister is moving back to Nebraska. She's about two and a half years younger than me and she moved to Austin a few years ago when Angela and I lived there because she needed a change of scenery from the Midwest, so she got an apartment a few miles from our house. Then she moved to Dallas with us when I got the job with Kidd because she didn't have anything tying her down in Austin. She had a job as a cosmetologist, but she could cut hair in Dallas just as easily, and she didn't have a boyfriend or kids to make her stay put. But now she's a single mom with two little girls and a hundred things to think about regarding their welfare, and she decided it would be best to be in the Midwest near our parents. I'm going to miss them all like crazy. That's me with Jada in the picture. She'll be two next week, and Ciara is almost six months old. They are too cool.

Jada has completely broken me. I've never really been maternal--in fact sort of awkward in situations where I'm supposed to be nurturing and motherly--but when Jada is around I find myself talking in the high-pitched fun voice, enjoying having crayons shoved in my pockets, and passing out hugs and kisses like I've completely lost my mind. I guess I have lost the part of my mind that always told me I hated kids. I don't really. Well, the loud ones that run around in Target and kick up their heels, peel around the corner, and almost knock me into a rack of bras still bug me, but I don't hold that against all children anymore. I've become "Aunt Nenny," and the soft spot that Jada has created keeps me from throwing lingerie at the little snots now when I encounter them on a routine shopping trip. I bet Jada would protect me from anyone who knocked me into lingerie anyway, or at least do the hokey pokey in the aisle until they got bored and left. She does seem to be a peacemaker. I love that about her. Ciara makes me all mushy inside too, but Jada has had a head start, and since she was the first to break me she has dibs in this blog. They're both pretty little gals. Maybe I'm just jealous of the actual color in their skin. I'm pretty much pigmentless.

Angela and I have talked about having kids someday, but I don't know that we will. We go back and forth between "Yes, that would be the most fulfilling thing we could ever do--we have so much love to give," and "No, that would totally interfere with our ability to play golf all day and then jet off to a Rangers game." Who knows. Angela would be the perfect parent, but I have a lot of self-sacrifice yet to learn and I fear that I would fail miserably. Perhaps we're just not ready yet. Hmm. I guess time will tell. Maybe we'll wait and see how awesome Jada is when she's 13...

Rangers vs. Red Sox

The Rangers game last night was amazing. It was a standing room only crowd since the Red Sox were in town and it was the 4th of July, and although I usually don't like huge crowds, this sell-out actually made the game more fun. The Rangers scored three runs in the bottom of the first inning and Ameriquest Field was pretty much rockin from that point on. Our seats were behind home plate but WAY up high, so we sat there for three or four innings and then decided to walk through the lower levels and then over to the Pro Shop near Centerfield. I already own five Rangers shirts, but I bought another one last night. I couldn't stop myself. This new one is a total "Jenny shirt" as Angela would say--complete with white stripes down the navy blue sleeves and tattered slit where the v-neck should be. It's sassy. Angela bought a khaki visor and some Rangers pants to lounge around the house in. Sassy as well.

So, we got back to our seats with our bag of goodies and a couple fresh beers in the bottom of the seventh inning. I think it was tied 3-3 at that point. Then the Red Sox went ahead 5-3. Then the Rangers scored one run in the bottom of the eighth to make it 5-4. The bottom of the ninth ruled! Michael Young and Mark Teixeira made us scream our pony-tailed little heads off! Michael Young hit a triple, Tex hit a double to tie the game at 5-5, then the Rangers loaded the bases and Kevin Mench hit a single to left field to win the game. It's the third Rangers game we've attended, but the most exciting win by far. Love love love the Rangers. And we're going back this Saturday night to see them play Toronto. No souveniers this time though! My entire wardrobe does not need to have the Rangers logo on it.

There were fireworks after the game, and although I don't usually care for fireworks, this show was cool. I don't think I can really describe a fireworks show, but ya all can imagine it I'm sure. And the Rangers had just pulled off an exciting win so the crowd was extra jazzed. Good stuff. (Angela took the above picture with her camera phone. All of my pictures turned out crappy.) It took about an hour to get out of the Six Flags area after the fireworks were over, but it was worth it. We got home around 12:30, and then we were up at 6am to play golf. Angela beat me by one stroke - 102 to 103. I was thrilled with the 103! I don't think I've ever shot better. But Angela won and I tied with our friend Kelli. Surely the nineties can't be far off.

So the last couple of days have been all about sports. We're grilling some kabobs now and then we're going upstairs to play pool. And hey, the Rangers play the Red Sox again tonight so I'm sure we'll watch the game on TV. Never enough sports. And football season is near! Life is good.

4th of July Weekend Fun

Yesterday was a great quality time day. Angela and I are both off work now until Wednesday and yesterday after I got off work at 10:00, the holiday weekend festivities began. Actually, nothing festive happened yesterday but we had an awesome time. We have fun with just us. Besides, the real festivities are still to come so we had to rest up.

We shopped a little bit because we have a Luau party to go to tonight at our friend Scot's house. Angela is into the whole Hawaiian theme, but I think I'm going to have to wear something boring and blend in-like because I couldn't find anything satisfactory to buy yesterday. I'm not a theme dresser upper anyway. (Angela's edit: Silly, you're not going to "blend in" you're going to stand out like Big Al in a bunny suit.) Maybe I'll just eat a lot of pineapple at the party. Besides, we're going to the big breast cancer awareness show at Sue Ellen's first this afternoon, and I would hate to have to wear a grass skirt and bikini top out there on the patio. I'm way too pastey white and I wouldn't want to scare anyone when that lack of color is combined with something so tropical.

We ate wings, played pool, and watched the Rangers beat the Mariners yesterday too. We're huge Rangers fans. We're going to the Rangers/Red Sox game tomorrow night and staying for the fireworks afterward. I'm not a huge fireworks fan, but hopefully the Rangers will have won and I'll be in a good mood and I won't think about the wastefulness of those split-second sparkley noisemakers. Whatever. Angela likes them so I will enjoy them on her behalf.

Okay so we've worked out, our curls are defined and moussed, the Blackeyed Peas are bumpin' in the stereo, our toenails are freshly painted, and the dogs have gone outside and done their business. We're ready to go meet friends for a late lunch at Uncle Julio's or Glorias, then we're off to Sue Ellen's and the Luau. Angela just reminded me that I'm wearing Bermuda shorts, so see I AM tropical and festive! Let the fun begin.