These Boots Were Made For Walkin’

My parents got engaged just a few months after they started dating.  They knew they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together right away, but they waited to tie the knot longer than one might expect given their short courtship.  It wasn’t because they weren’t sure.  It wasn’t because they planned a big extravagant wedding.  It was because my Paw-Paw wanted to have a new pair of boots made for the wedding.  True story.  My parent's engagement lasted the exact length of time it takes to have a handcrafted pair of men’s boots fitted and sewn.  Texans in general take boots very seriously.  My family takes it to a whole new level.  My Paw-Paw has his boots handmade… and they aren’t cheap.  You could put a kid through college on what he has spent on boots in his lifetime.  He’s a very frugal man, but he understands the value in a good pair of boots.  That has been passed down through the generations.  His great grandson is two and already owns a pair of square toed Anderson Bean boots.  For those of you that aren’t in the know when it comes to boots, Anderson Bean boots are like the Rolls-Royce of boots… the closest thing you can get to a one of a kind handmade boot.  Paw-Paw and Daddy have always made sure all of our boot needs were met.  There was no style, color, or brand that we were denied over the years… even when our request was absurd.  In the first grade, I was convinced that I could not settle for a plain red pair of boots like every other girl in my class… I needed a “special” pair of boots!  They were special alright.  They were bright yellow and I thought I looked gooood!  I showed up to school sportin’ my special boots and immediately, Ashley Jacobs (you guys may know him now as Michael) dubbed me “Mustard Feet” and it stuck.  I was devastated that no one else could see the beauty in my bright yellow boots!  They were magical and unique… and mustard yellow.  I’m sure my parents saw the whole “Mustard Feet” thing coming from a mile away.  As adults, we anticipate things like that.  Still, my Paw-Paw bought me those special mustard yellow boots without hesitation, and I rocked ‘em like they were goin’ out of style.  Anyone who knows me well realizes I never really outgrew my tendency towards all things flashy and different. 

I'm all grown up now, and I still follow in my Paw-Paw’s boot shaped footsteps.  You need two pairs of boots… one pair for every day, and one pair fancy enough to be fit for a wedding.  I’ve become a bit more sensible about the color of my boots, but they’re no less flashy than they were in the first grade.  Even my every day boots secretly scream for attention… under my jeans you’ll find red uppers with purple stitching.  Boring on the bottom, funky on top!

My fancy boots are a bit more subdued.  You won’t find their color in a rainbow, but they’ve got their own spicy flare… they’re a brand new pair of Lucchese Vaquero snip-toe boots that make my feet happy and my heart sing!

Here’s the most important thing about boots… you can wear them anywhere with anything and you’ll always look hot!  You’ll also be comfortable, and that’s at the top of my list of priorities when purchasing new shoes.  I wear mine with jeans, dresses, shorts, and yesterday when I couldn’t find my flip flops I slipped them on with my pajama pants and drove to the Sonic for a Diet Coke… yeah, I looked hot!  Trust me.

Moral of the story: If you don’t own at least one pair of boots, you should go ahead and ask Jesus for forgiveness when you say your prayers tonight.       

Ain’t Nothin’ Sweet ‘Bout How I Hold My Gun

What does your family do for fun?  Mine plays with guns… in a responsible totally legal kind of way.  I’ve never shot a pistol before (until today)… truthfully, I’ve never shot any kind of gun before.  I’m always the nerdy kid sitting in the shade reading while everyone else blows through the ammo.  To say I have a healthy respect for guns would be an understatement.  They scare me… so much so that until now, I didn’t even like being around them.  I’ve always been curious what it would feel like to shoot one, and it looks like fun… assuming you can get past the fear that you’ll accidentally shoot yourself or someone else.  So today, I went to the Bexar County Shooting Range with my aunt and uncle.  Turns out good aim runs in the family!  I’m not one to brag, but I’m good… like real good… like pity the fool who tries to mess with me good!  A picture is worth a thousand words: 

Playing with guns is fun!  Playing with guns is empowering!  Playing with guns is also really dangerous if you’re not careful, so take it seriously.  I shot two different kinds of guns… a Glock 27, 40 caliber semi-automatic pistol and a Ruger LCP, 380 caliber semi-automatic pistol.  The Ruger is tiny, cute, and sassy… it’s also deceptively hard to handle.  The Glock is bigger and easier to handle.  Plus, it kinda makes you feel like a real BAD A$$ when you shoot it… pardon the language, but there’s really no other way to describe it.  If you’re not clear on what feeling like a BAD A$$ looks likes, here are a few pictures:

The best part about going to the shooting range is that it requires 100% of your attention and focus.  That’s a beautiful thing… no time to dwell on any of life’s troubles or the laundry that awaits you at home!  I was nervous and my body was tense, but it was strangely relaxing… all the junk going on in my head was completely silenced… totally peaceful.  It’s kind of odd to think that aiming a gun and shooting to kill is a fun, relaxing, peaceful pastime, but it was like going to my mental happy place… in a good way, not in a creepy way… no need to be alarmed.  There are also some real safety benefits to knowing how to properly use a gun.  As a single girl who travels for a living, it’s not a terrible idea to have one handy as a means of protecting myself.  As it turns out, guns aren’t scary… if you know how to use one properly and responsibly.  Meaning, it’s not okay to pull out your gun and wave it around to let the lady who cut you off in traffic know that you find her poor driving to be mildly offensive and annoying.  It should only be used as a means of self-protection or for sport… and aiming at a person’s feet making them jump around to avoid your bullets is not a sport… although I cannot lie, I can think of a few people I’d “play with” if it were a sport…

Bottom line, I’ve really been missing out all these years!  I’m asking Santa Claus for a Glock, a Concealed Handgun License (CHL), and sassy hot pink pair of those ear protector thingies for Christmas!  BANG! BANG! BANG!     

Swagga Like Us: Why Texans LOVE Texas!

I’m in a Lone Star state of mind today, and I’ve been thinkin’ about all the things that make Texas so great!  Texans have a special kind of pride in our state that’s hard to explain to those who don’t live here… nobody has swagga like us!  As Robert Earl Keen likes to say, “The Road Goes on Forever and the Party Never Ends!” My list of things I love about Texas is a lot like the road… it could go on forever…

The Dallas Cowboys, The Texas Rangers, The Dallas Mavericks, The Dallas Stars, The Houston Texans, and The Houston Astros are all proud to call Texas home!

The bluebonnet is our state flower.  They’re kind of a big deal…

Friday Night Lights! No other state takes high school football as seriously as we do.  Heck, most of our high school football teams could give the Houston Texans a run for their money! ;-)

We’re home to the Live Music Capitol of the World! ATX knows how to rock, roll, and honky tonk! For that, we are so very thankful!

Willie Nelson… enough said.

We used to be our own Republic.  If we get tired of playing nice with the other states, we have the right to secede.  Awesome.

Everything is bigger in Texas… including our economy.  It’s the 14^th largest economy in the world!  That’s bigger than the economy of most countries.  True story.

We don’t have a personal income tax, and you can buy a house twice the size of what you can buy in California or New York for about half the price.  Who doesn’t love a bargain?!

Texas is home to some of the finest establishments of higher education in the country. Hook ‘em! Guns up! Whoop! Sic ‘em!

We’ve got mountains, canyons, beaches, rivers, woods, and everything in between. 

We’re friendly.  We wave.  We say yes ma’am and no sir.  Basically, we have manners and that’s not universal. 

We love guns, and we know how to use ‘em!

The ladies of Texas can skin a deer in the morning and look like the quintessential southern bell by the time the sun sets.  Speaking of sunsets…

We’ve got the most gorgeous sunsets in the world.  Almost all of the sunsets used in television and film are shot right here in Texas... that means even our sunsets are famous!

Our food will make your taste buds high five each other!  Some like it hot, we like it extra spicy with a delicious burst of flavor for good measure!  The best part… it’s served in Texas sized portions!

Simply put, we’ve got history… an entire text book full.  Texas History is part of the core curriculum for Texas students.  We’re as proud of our past as we are of our state!

There are so many things to love about Texas that it would be nearly impossible to list them all!  Bottom line, Texas is AWESOME!  If you don’t agree, you’re clearly from the portion of the map simply noted as NOT TEXAS.

Confessions of a Dirty Girl

My apartment is a reflection of my life.  Some days it’s so clean and organized that people wonder if anyone actually lives here… today is not that day.  Today is the day that it’s so messy and dirty that I can’t figure out how I ever let it get so out of control.  As I sit here writing this blog, I’m surrounded by chaos.  Laundry is piled up everywhere… some of it clean and some of it dirty.  Dishes are in the sink, on the counter, on the table… everywhere but in the dishwasher.  In fact, I’m pretty sure there is more than one half empty Sonic cup sitting on my bathroom cabinet… don’t ask.  I can’t even figure out how they got there.  There are not one, not two, but three suitcases sitting in the dining room that are half unpacked… or half packed depending on how you look at it.  There are shoes in the living room, in my office, in the bathroom, in my bedroom, on the treadmill… and there’s a pair of boots sitting downstairs by the front door that someone borrowed about three months ago.  I’ve been in and out that door a hundred times since then, and still they sit there waiting patiently to be returned to their rightful home… the closet.  Trash is picked up at the curb right outside my apartment every Tuesday and Friday, but all of the trashcans are full.  My apartment is so messy that I called the cleaning lady and postponed my last cleaning because I didn’t want her to see it like this.  That’s bad when you feel like you need to clean before the cleaning lady can come clean.  It’s like a nasty downward spiral.  It starts getting messy because I’m so busy traveling that I don’t have time to do anything but unpack, repack, and leave again.  Then, when I do have time to do something about it, I just don’t care anymore.  Now it’s at a critical stage.  It’s at the “so dirty it’s making me unhappy” stage.  It rarely reaches this point, and I’ve discovered that this stage often times coincides with my mood about things other than the cleanliness of my humble abode.  Life has gotten kind of messy and confusing, and the more messy and confusing it gets the messier my apartment gets.  I found my stapler in the refrigerator yesterday.  That’s bad.  Really bad.  90% of the time, my apartment is adorable, CLEAN, and organized as efficiently as only someone as OCD as myself could achieve.  The other 10% of the time it looks like a war zone.  When my life gets messy I shut down.  I don’t do laundry.  I don’t do dishes.  I don’t cook.  I obviously don’t clean.  I just sit around in the midst of the chaos and feel bad about the fact my messy life and my messy apartment aren’t living up to my expectations.  This is usually the point where my sister stages an intervention.  She comes to town, we clean, I cry, and then we move on like it never happened.  I’m trying a new approach this time.  I’m going to clean on my own today… sans intervention! At the very least, it will be one less thing to sit around worrying and feeling bad about.  Wish me luck!

LEMON / lem·on / noun: A yellow, oval citrus fruit with thick skin and fragrant, acidic juice.

How do you know what to do when you don’t know what to do? How do you fix something you didn’t realize was broken? How do you become something you didn’t know you needed to be? How do you adjust your vision of the future to be the opposite of what you imagined? How do you find a new path when you never wanted to leave the old path? How do you acknowledge the truth when you’re not even willing to share it with anyone else? How do you forgive someone when it never occurred to you they weren‘t worthy of your trust in the first place? How do you accept something when you don’t understand it? How do you undo things that have already been done?

Sometimes life hands you lemons, and sometimes it hurls them at you when you least expect it. One day you’re strolling along wondering what you did to deserve such good fortune, and the next you’re curled up in a ball crying and trying to figure out how you got from point A to point B. You’re wishing you had never started out at point A so you didn’t have to understand how truly painful point B is capable of being. You feel a complicated mixture of sadness, anger, confusion, and desperation. All of which you would give nearly anything to make disappear. You wonder what comes next, and you know that no matter what it is, it isn’t going to be easy. You’re full of questions with no answers, and no matter how hard you search for those answers, many times you will never find them. You pray and you ask for guidance, faith, and patience none of which actually make the situation any less painful in the moment. You then realize you don’t even know what exactly it is you need to be praying for so you simply pray for God to figure it out and help you to accept it. You spend an unfortunate amount of time staring off into space thinking blank thoughts in effort to avoid any real thoughts. You realize a whole day has passed and you never got out of your pajamas, and you hope that somehow you can get away with doing a whole bunch of nothing again the next day. You’re paralyzed by the thought of having to accept what has happened, make a plan, and move on with life. Things don’t just seem overwhelming, they truly are overwhelming. You cry, and then you cry, and then you cry some more.

Eventually a day comes when all those tears, and all that prayer have brought you to a place of acceptance. It doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten. It doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve forgiven. It just means you want to. Until that day comes, you just have to believe that there is some lesson to be learned… the lemonade that comes from all those lemons. In the moment, that’s hard to see and even harder to believe, but it’s true. God has a plan. We don’t have to like it, and we don’t have to understand it. We just have to be willing to accept that the path He calls us to take will always be worth the change, worth the risk, worth the effort, simply because He has chosen it for us. When He finally gets us where He wants us, we’ll wonder why we wasted so much time and energy being upset and trying to figure out why we didn’t get what we thought we wanted. We will be sitting around sipping on the most delicious lemonade imaginable, and we won’t be able to imagine anything better… it’ll be hard to remember what it was we thought was so great about where we were before.

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6