Thug Life

What you know about thug life, son?

That's what kept rolling through my head as I passed a "muscle tee", as the hipsters would call them, this week while shopping in Vegas. I'm not sure why in the world I was intrigued by this Thug Life tee, but it had me "oh, hello there, shirt that I should never own".

So, I did what anyone does while vacationing in Vegas, I threw some money at it. Yep, I'm now the proud owner of a Thug Life muscle tee and I couldn't be more happy with my purchase. It just screams "what you know about thug life, petite little girl in pearls?" Where shall I sport this tee without getting odd looks, no clue? But I look forward to sporting it often with said pearls. #JuxtapositionMuch

And just to reiterate just how much I know about so called Thug Life, after I purchased my shirt, I had a few moments of buyer's panic remorse when I began questioning the font on my purchase.
Look closely, can you see both the T and the C on the first letter? #Thugpanic #whatischuglife?

And, duh, don't all true thugs receive pictures of their toy poodles via text?

What Happens in Vegas...

...will not be nearly as crazy as the commercials portray, I guarantee it. My bags are packed and I'm headed to Vegas for a girls' trip for 4 days. I think it's pretty timely that the Hangover 3 movie trailers are just now hitting our TV screens. Timely, yes. Ironic, no, as our trip will not resemble that movie in the least, and if it does, I guarantee that I will not be awake for it.

My Vegas bucket list this trip looks more like a shopping and eating checklist. The last time I went, I gave myself a $5 gambling limit. Needless to say, my time in front of any form of gambling was done in about 2 minutes. I'd much rather have a 100% return on my investment in a store down the strip from a casino. I win every single time in the store. Not so much at the slots.

As for my big trip preparations, I had this grandiose plan to get in shape, get a tan, get my hair done to cover my gray not so brunette hairs, and buy some fun spunky outfits for said girls' trip and somehow all four of those goals escaped me. So far we're off to a great start, ladies and gents.

Oh well, who cares. Here's to 4 days of girl talk, the desert, bright lights, tackiness, and hopefully, a show or two, or three. Viva Las Vegas, baby!

Ode to My Mom

The older I get, the more I appreciate my mom. She not only kept me alive for the 18 years that I lived under their roof, but she also refused to give into the temptation of taking me out of this world  when my attitude ran taller than my 80's glam bangs in middle school. My attitude needed major adjusting during the ages of about 11-14. I was evil, which I know shocks many of you. Or then again, maybe it doesn't;)

*Don't let my smile and floral vest fool you...evil.

Sorry about this pic, mom, but it was too good not to share;)

I had a mouth and mean, mean words at times, and I wasn't afraid to use both. I blame it on pre-teen hormones.  I was stubborn; crazy stubborn. If my family ate somewhere that I didn't "feel like" that evening, I'd refuse to go inside. I remember sitting in the car at what is now one of my favorite restaurants in town, and I stubbornly watched my family eat their warm meals through the window. I was starving but I was not going to let them "win". The funny part is that no one really won, but I lost big time. I was the one who didn't get supper, and the only person that I hurt by those stunts was myself. Pathetic little me, sitting alone with tears streaming down my face in the cold, dark car while I could smell the delicious fries in the air.

By the grace of God, I slowly grew up and evened myself out. I stopped screaming at my mom or making faces to her from around the corner. I started realizing that maybe she actually knew what she was talking about from time to time, so I began to listen more. I also learned that she had my back when I needed an advocate. She was one of my biggest fans and I was becoming one of hers. She never missed a skating competition in 13 years, although I'm sure there were some that she had wished she hadn't witnessed due to my lazy, poor performance at times. She'd take off work, drive me hours away, watch nervously in the stands, and either celebrate with me or assure me that there was "nowhere to go but up" if my skating was less than stellar.

And as I got even older, I began watching her passion for giving back and her compassion for others. I had a new found respect for her heart outside of simply mothering Tanner and me. I watched her mother her little sister through the Big Sister's program, and I watched her serve as a second mother for a family in Mississippi through the Box Project. I learned that my mom's heart didn't belong just to our family of four, and I became proud.

We shared countless girl's weekends in Charleston and fell in love with the south, and more so its charm and cuisine, together. And somewhere between my 20's and early 30's she became one of my best friends. Still is. Always will be. If she can put up with Brittany at age 11, I'm certain we can weather anything together.

Happy Mother's Day weekend, mom! You're an example of compassion, passion, creativity, being humble and forgiving, and you must have the patience of a saint to put up with Tanner and me. I'm so thankful that out of all the mom's in the world, the Lord gave us you. Thank you for you being our selfless fan for over 30 years! I love you.

A Mugshot Addiction

Upon first glance, I'm your average 30 something female who can usually be found sporting pearl earrings, playing with my 10 lb toy poodle, driving in my white Jeep singing along to Journey, and enjoying a nice glass of Malbec after a long week at the office.

What people don't know about me behind the pearls and monster ballads, is that I'm a mugshot junkie. Rockford Mugshots is my jam. If you arrested in the greater Rockford area and are hoping to keep it a secret, not gonna happen. I will know within hours of your booking, so walk the straight and narrow if you don't want me to stalk the worst photo you will ever take. Ever.

I love me some mugshots. I'm fascinated by them quite honestly. And my fascination does not begin and end at www.rockfordmugshots.com. Oh no, that's just the starting point for me. I then take it to the streets, aka Facebook.  I will find your mug and then find you on Facebook, muwahaha. Most of the time these folks can be found on FB making the awful "duck face" or posing with 8 of their cute little friends at a local bar days if not hours before the mug unfolds. Then their mug photo looks a little more along the lines of running mascara and begging someone not to call their parents, spouse, or boss to let them know that they just got arrested in their official Burger King uniform shirt and will most likely be late for their upcoming shift.

I honestly think someone from law enforcement should hire me based on my hours of physical and mental profiling done from the comfort of my leather sofa. I can spot a future repeat offender within seconds. If you have one of the following, I will most likely see you grace my iPad again in the near future:

• Facial tattoos. I think tattoo artists should have to submit names to authorities of anyone requesting artwork on their face. Face tat= probably not making the best decisions.
• Neck Tattoos. Please see my rationale above.
• Hair that is standing at least 5 inches straight out of your head. It didn't work for Nick Nolte and it probably won't work for you.
  
• YOLO shirts. You may only live once, but you can certainly be arrested multiple times. Keep the fun in check. Screaming YOLO and pounding shots before you drive home, does not a long life make.
• Grins. If you're smiling in your mug like it's a Glamour Shot at the mall...I look forward to seeing you again real soon, cutie pie.
• Closed eyes. If you're so high or so drunk that you can't keep your eyes open for the photo, I'm guessing you won't be calling a cab or just saying no the next time either.
• War wounds. If you look like someone used your poor little face as a skate board, I'd bet my nickels that you'll have another starring role on this site.
• Hospital gowns. Wow. Need I say more. If they didn't even let you get dressed after the ER visit, you're probably in some serious hot water with the law. You should've considered faking a coma for at least a few days.

Now, I know all of this probably makes me seem heartless, and I assure you that I am not. Some of the people make me very sad. You can tell the ones who've had a long battle with addiction and other demons and my heart hurts for them. I'm sure they have stories that I couldn't handle and I'm certainly not judging.

However, there are clearly some folks who just made a poor decision and are now on the world's worst online dating site ever (come one, there has to be someone out there that uses the access to honest photos and true ages to make strange love connections, right?). Those offenders are the ones that are my online train wreck and I just cannot look away. I wish I knew why I was so compelled to peruse this site daily, but it just calls to me. And the downside of this curiosity is that now I'm always staring everyone down at the grocery store  thinking "didn't I just see you on Mugs for fleeing to elude? Or was it obstruction of justice?"

Maybe I better find a new source of entertainment before I end up on there for chasing people around Walmart and giving them the stink eye in the dairy aisle for crimes they may or may not have committed. It's just so darn hard to look away!

Flight Etiquette

This past weekend I had the pleasure of being a passenger on 4 different flights in a 72 hours span. That being said, I don't particularly enjoy flying. I don't not like it because I'm afraid, I just don't like the lack of control that I have and the strict time lines, etc... There's just too much room for error and absolutely nothing that I can do about it.

I'll also never be one of those people who loves grabbing a beer at the airport bar, nor am I the gal ordering a boxed snack and Merlot on a flight. Just get me to point A from B without too much turbulence, delays, and hoopla and I'll pleasantly mind my own. Other passengers, not so much really.

With about 4-5 more trips ahead of me in the next few months, I've started compiling a list of general airplane etiquette, at least for my own peace of mind:

1. If you must recline your seat, please do so gradually. Do not, I kindly repeat, do not drop it like it's hot with one huge plunge. The person in front of me did that this weekend and I kid you not, I almost wet myself. It scared the dickens out of me. I'm just minding my own with my little paperback and wham! The woman in the seat in front of me is now in my lap. Ease into it friends. There's no rush. We still have 2 hours for you to recline, but I assure you, it's going to feel like 8 hours if you have to smell pee pants behind you the whole way.
2. And, if we're being 100% honest with ourselves, is it really polite to recline all the way back? Aren't our seats tight enough without someone else taking a snooze in your personal space? Just think on that.
3. Please shower before your day of travel. I've had people in my life who have the mindset of "why would I shower just to sit on a plane for a few hours?" Well, I would usually tell them in my sweetest most convincing voice, "it's not really about showering for you. It's about showering for the poor soul who must sit next to you for 2 hours. No one needs to smell you at 30,000 feet." No one. They did not pay $300+ to sit next to a BO machine. Please at least "rinse off" if you can't spare us all the 5-10 minutes for a little lather.
4. Headphones should not be speakers for the person next to you. Musical taste can be very personal and I don't pretend to know what the person next to me in 34B wants to hear as their "flight 1706 soundtrack". Blasting hardcore rap is plain rude and quite tacky. Please use the headphone to get the tunes to your head and your head alone. Thank you.
   
   *Note, this was sent while we were still permitted to use our electronic devices. Homeboy blasting the rap never even turned his device off. Etiquette #6 if this list had a #6.
 
 
5. If you do not have a connecting flight, please deplane last as the pilot has asked. This one peeves me up royally. Unless you want to sprint from concourse A to F while pulling me on your rolling suitcase while I scream "faster, faster, we're going to miss it", please let some of us get off ahead of you. Your ride will wait for you, I promise, but my plane will not. And if your ride doesn't wait, well it's probably because you're rude both on and off of the plane. No offense.

Friends, if you have any tips you'd like to add, please do so. I'd like to know if I'm an airline offender and totally unaware like the woman across the aisle letting her 3 year old use her seat like a trampoline for 2 hours while she drowns her parental defeat into miniature bags of pretzels and peanuts.

Mom in aisle 33, I ain't mad at ya. That will probably be me some day. You get one get out of a jail free card, mostly because I can longer hear your child jumping and screaming over the Lil Wayne lyrics compliments of passenger 34B. I do however, think the person who may have to use the floatation device under your child's "trampoline" would revoke your free jail pass on the spot. Just sayin.

Dear Delta

Dear Delta,

I am avid United customer. I felt like I needed to be upfront about that before we really get to know one another. I can fly direct on United between my two home bases of Chicago and Charleston, SC, so they always get my business. Until this weekend.

As I boarded my delayed flight this past Friday night, I knew in my anxious gut that I'd miss my connection to Charleston and would then be stuck in Atlanta overnight. I was already not a happy camper. I'm not the best traveler so being stuck somewhere is cruel and unusual punishment for this worry wart. My trip was short enough already and now you were cutting into my time with the people I love. Not a smooth move for this United fan.

When the pilot announced that we'd be landing in ATL in roughly 30 minutes, I checked the time and it was 10:20. My flight left for Charleston at 10:50. Not gonna happen. Stranded. Anxious.

The minute my feet hit the ATL airport terminal, I was directed to a bank of courtesy phones which held my travel fate. About 30 seconds into the call, the friendly voice shared with me that I had already been re-booked on the first flight out the next morning. While I was still in the air, a team was working on the ground to get me to my destination. Stranded but impressed. This point is usually where I'd fight tears, if I can even contain them, but this time, I actually felt a bit of relief. Stranded but Delta had my back.

Although we couldn't get to our checked luggage, I was given a hotel room, meal voucher, and an overnight kit. Toothbrushes equal a thankful traveler in this girl. Ain't nobody got time to sit next to a funky mouthed passenger first thing in the morning. Thankful. Once I reached my hotel room, I realized that I didn't have anything to sleep in. That's when I opened my overnight SkyTeam case and realized that there was not just a toothbrush in the case, but also an XL Delta t-shirt. Stranded but with pajamas and fresh breath. Man, Delta, you think of everything! Stranded but growing increasingly more impressed.

About 4 hours of sleep later, I woke and headed back to the airport. I enjoyed my breakfast that Delta bought me and boarded my final flight to Charleston. I was about 10 hours late, but surprisingly I wasn't anxious, upset or cursing Delta's name. And trust me, when you're stranded, without clean clothes or make-up and going on only 4 hours of sleep when you usually require 8 to be a pleasant human being, this is no small feat. Someone was doing something very very right.

And, Delta, on the creative and branding side, you dress to impress. I never encountered anyone in your uniform that didn't smile and seem happy to help. AND your flight instruction video= brilliant! I've been flying since I was a youngster. I'm now 34 and I NEVER pay attention to those safety instructions as I could probably do the demo in my sleep. BUT your new video had me at hello. I laughed, I listened and my heart got all happy and warm when I saw my favorite red-head wag her finger from a passenger seat with the no smoking portion. I kept thinking to myself "did that flight attendant change jackets? Was she wearing glasses the whole time?" You're brilliant, my new friend. 

So in closing, I'd like to consider taking our relationship to the next level, Delta. I think you've got what I'm looking for~ creativity, follow through, friendly faces, and t-shirts that make wonderful pajamas in the clutch. Your pilots are charming and I loved hearing their personalities through the PA system. They put me at ease and I knew I was in good hands with two retired Navy officers. Thanks for a great weekend. You turned a travel plan disaster into a not so horrible situation and I'm forever a fan.

I just might even friend you on Facebook and make us official!

Sincerely,

Your newest SkyTeam member with complimentary fresh breathe

Who Ya Gonna Call...

No, not Ghost Busters, silly. My dad. That's who I'm gonna call.

I've always known that my parents are wealth's of knowledge. They know everything. Or at least in my eyes, they know everything and always will. They've been there, done that, seen that, lived through that to tell the tale, wouldn't do that again, etc...

I'm one of the fortunate people who never "wanted" when it came to my folks. They always showed up, always loved, made the hard decisions when I'm sure it wasn't easy, and helped me to strive for great and not just mediocre. Not that I'm claiming to be great, but you get the drift.

And although my parents are super smart and equals in my head, I'm starting to realize that they're both my "go to" person but for totally different things. If I need someone to listen to me vent on matters of the heart, I go to my mom. She listens (well, to about 75% of what I say and nods pleasantly through the other 25% like she's still listening-it runs in the family. Just watch my grandma;). She doesn't try to fix things or give me a solution, she just listens and shares in my "this sucks" feeling when I need to feel known.

My dad, he's the boss. He's got the answers and he's got solutions. If I need work advice, he's very knowledgeable as an Executive Director of a statewide agency. Now, if I need boy advice or matters of the heart, he's probably not my go to dude. I remember a conversation of ours when I was suffering from a catastrophic, broken heart and I heard his words ring through the phone line "Well Baboo, at least you're not the U of Illinois basketball team. They were undefeated ALL season and just lost their playoff game to get into the NCAA tournament. Now that is devastating. Try to imagine how they're feeling right about now."  Bless his heart, I know he was trying, and in his head that was a "let's put this into perspective" moment. I can laugh about it now, but at the time, I think I cried harder and asked when mom would be home to talk.

During some recent transitions in my life while updating resumes last summer, career moves, etc...my dad's been an awesome source of support and wisdom. My hubs is as well, but dad's got some years on us that we just don't have at 34 years old.

This week the chips were down for me and I was scared over an issue. After talking it over with the hubs, I told him "I'm going to call my dad. He'll know what to do." And even though I knew what he was going to say before he said it, I, his little girl, just needed to hear it in his voice. He told me what I should do and I did it. Within minutes. I just needed to hear my dad say that it was going to be okay. And guess what? It was. I lived to tell the tale.

I have a feeling that I'll be the 60 year old on the phone with my dad when the chips are down and I need some solid, encouraging advice. I pray to God he won't be helping me update my resume at 60, but I do know, Lord willing, he'll be the one that I call when a solution looms in the air and I need a wise voice.

So thankful.

Crushing on My Men

There are many reasons that I love my husband, but texts like this rank right up there.

 

I know that NO ONE can ever love our little Piggy more than I do, but Tim is certainly creeping into the poodle love-fest more and more every day. Gotta love a grown man who can proudly walk his poodle down the road.

 

And just because he's cute and I'm an overly proud momma, here he is again so you can get a better look at our sunny, happy boy:

 

 

And of course, silly moments like the one below also help my crush:

 

While listening to Jason Aldean's new song "1994" together while driving down the road-

Hubs singing along- "Jump, jump, jump with me."

Me- "What are you saying?"

Hubs- "He's (J. Aldean) singing "Jump, jump, jump with me."

Me- "Um, no sir. He's singing 'Joe, Joe, Joe Diffie'. Duh."

 

So come on Joe Diffie, jump with us, will you?



 

Safe

The past few days have brought about an emotion that I don't typically feel.  Fear.

Sure, I'm afraid of spiders. sharks, deep, dark water, tornadoes, etc...but these fears aren't normally part of my daily routine. Scared of sharks? Stay out of the ocean. Scared of spiders? Get the house treated by The Bug Lady (shout out). Avoid the situation causing fear and go on with your day. That's how most of us GET to live our life.

Lately however, avoiding fearful situations has become more challenging. Our hometown seems to be under attack by a drastically climbing crime rate. Every day, without exaggeration, there is an armed robbery at a local business, a mugging, a home invasion, a shooting, etc... You cannot log onto Facebook without seeing a report of victimization somewhere. The news haunts my sleep. There are bad people in our city and they seem to be getting stronger, bolder, and closer. No area is safe anymore. Crime used to stay on one side of the river. Crime is now in our neighborhood and on our streets.

Last week an elderly couple that lives down the street from us were shot during a home invasion. Two men broke in at 1pm. I drove past their home at 1pm as I headed home for lunch. At the very moment that I drove by, someone was in their home to rob and harm them. Shots were fired and people were severely injured.  The criminals escaped. There are no leads. That thought gives me chills every time I think about it.

At 1:50pm that day, I drove back by their street and noticed cops, news crews, and yellow police tape. I immediately called my husband to check the news. This is not a scene that we pass by everyday in our quiet, quaint suburban neighborhood. Their entire property had been roped off to keeps others out after someone had broken the rules and forced their way in.

How do you feel safe, even in your own "safe haven" of a home, when someone can come in at anytime and take what they want? How do you not fear being harmed on your own property? I shouldn't have to know the difference between a burglary and a home invasion, but I do now. My mind doesn't need to comprehend that a home invasion is when someone forces their way in while you're currently inside.

There's now a cop car that parks directly across from our house in a church parking lot to ward off any future invasions. My husband thinks it's a good thing, and in my mind I know that it is. In my heart though, it's just a constant reminder when I look out of our windows and pretty curtains that there's a crazy world outside and without warning, that craziness can come crashing inside. It's a reminder that there are bad people in this world who take what they want when they want it. Apparently crime knows no boundaries.

I like being a part of this community. I want to do what we can to make it a better place for our children someday. I'm just not sure how to do all of the above when I, myself, am struggling with living in fear and telling myself that I'm safe.

Safe. You never know how powerful of a word it really is until you find it being forcfully pulled out of your vocabulary.

Viva Nash-Vegas

This past weekend saw two stories of survival. One, the survival of 5 friends who ran the St. Jude Country Music Half Marathon in 50 degree weather and a colossal monsoon, with only a touch of mild-hypothermia. No, seriously. There was a fainting spell with one of our runners. These 5 are either crazy or stupid. I'll let you decide which one.

And the second survival, one wife in a car with 2 dudes for 18 hours round trip. I'm either crazy or stupid. I'll let you decide which one. Just kidding, they were great.

So about 3 hours into our journey, this happened:) Chick-fil-A is a special treat for this once southern girl gone back to her roots. The best part of this story is that we not-so-quickly realized about 15 minutes off the interstate that this Fil-A was located on the Univ. of Illinois campus. In their student center. I sure did march in there in my yoga pants and hoodie  like we owned the place. Nothing was going to stand between me and my nuggets.

After our runners completed their race on saturday (the hubs completed his Half in 1:45, congrats, Timmy!), we all went out for a little post race celebration in mid-town Nashville, which is always a great way to spend a day. We had to pump some food into their systems first to combat the hunger and body depletion that they were experiencing. Have you seen those Snickers commercials where the dudes get so hungry that they turn into Betty White and other divas? Good Lord, someone should warn a new wife that those commercials become VERY real after your spouse runs a very long distance race. Luckily once we got some flat bread into my diva  husband, everything was right with the world again. Also getting a Bushwacker into his system didn't hurt the situation either. Think Wendy's Frosty with some many adult libations swirled in for good measure. Who needs a Snickers when you can have a Bushwacker?

This trip held many laughs, good cuddle time with our friends' sweet baby boy, a small dance party in the backyard, etc... We always LOVE our friends' hospitality in Nashville. There's always fun plans, great food compliments of our friend and home-chef, Pete, and ample amounts of great, live music. It's always sad to leave them and the amazing city of Nashville.

And just for grins and giggles, check out a few of the places that we decided to pass on for a quick road trip meal along our route home. I bring you:

Seriously, who approved the Just Nuts Hut?

Thanks, but no thanks on the Kinmundy slaughter house as well. That made me want to vomit and/or cry.

And now you know how I got roped into a stop at the Waffle House. You know you're in trouble when the awful Waffle is among the safest choices on your GPS. My take on it after avoiding it for SO long: it's much like Denny's but way dirtier, way louder, and a lot less teeth (how is that even possible??!!). I ordered my hash browns smothered, chunked, choked, gagged, cringed, and appalled. Mission accomplished.

Until next time, music row...

Thanks for the entertainment and hospitality. You're always a great time!



 

*I apparently don't take photos of people, only drinks and GPS shots. My bad.