Pug Off

When it comes to planning travels, no one is more educated and classy

2011-11-11T08:50:00.002-06:00

Me: Have you ever been to Helsinki?

Husband: Nope. Why?

Me: Helsinki now has opened the first Angry Birds store! We should go there… Also because I think those Viking countries look pretty cool.

Husband: Oh yeah. I'd love to go to Finland, Sweden and Iceland.

Me: Which one has all the dykes?

Husband: Holland. German probably has the most angry/ugly lesbians.

JayJay

2011-11-04T16:48:00.005-05:00

The day I met JayJay. I remember this day clearly. I was about ten years old my mom got me and my sisters and loaded us up in the minivan. Mama was a teacher and one of her coworkers had a litter of little white kittens. My sister wanted one and we went to get it. I remember seeing JayJay for the first time in that carport. She was so sweet. She kept to herself and didn't make much of a fuss. Her strategy was "be still and no one will notice me." But my sister did notice. She always had a way of finding and taking care of the meek. And when my sister picked her up JayJay buried her face into my sister's hair and purred. That was it. JayJay became part of our family.

That was 20 years ago. So much has happened in those years. My sisters and I grew up, married, moved away. Three different states. Thousands of miles. JayJay made every move my sister did. She accepted every change -- husband and kids.

You might call JayJay eccentric. She insisted on living in a closet. Or under a bed. Somewhere quiet and peaceful. She's like my sister in that respect -- sweet and calm. But if you made her mad she would exact revenge. And the punishment she unleashed was unending. Anger her once and face a life time of her pooping in your pants every time you took them off and left on the floor. (She did that to my sister's husband so often it became a family joke.)

Other memories are less specific. Not so much focused on JayJay, but bigger memories that she was a part of.

I remember Jay Jay sitting under the Christmas tree while we opened presents one year -- more than a decade ago. She'd gotten locked out of my sister's room and took up residence in the first small, warm space. There are so many memories like that. Family memories that she's part of. Not doing anything in particular, just being a part of our family. I think that's why when JayJay died last week I found myself boo-hooy and teary-eyed. We keep moving forward, making new memories, but some of the most special parts of our old memories are fading away. Disappearing slowly. No longer part of the background. I think that's what breaks my heart so much. She's not the only part that's slipped away.

Sometimes being mean to kids is so funny

2011-11-03T15:10:00.001-05:00

Quality is poor but message is clear

2011-10-03T14:06:00.001-05:00

I love this road sign. Because I am a 13-year-old boy at heart.

Located a few miles south of College Station, just before the metropolis of Navasota. Taken out the window of a moving vehicle. Edited in Instagram. Sponsored by carsickness.

Seacrest out.

Chunky Monkey - photo series

2011-09-13T19:02:00.001-05:00

Just try and contain this cuteness.

-- Post From My iPhone

Little Jellybeans

2011-08-06T21:55:00.001-05:00

Photos taken by my sister and brother-in-law. Edited with Instagram.

Brace yourself for cuteness explosion.

Even more hilarious when view 10 times in a row

2011-08-01T14:05:00.002-05:00

Caitlyn

2011-07-31T18:34:00.004-05:00

Introducing the newest member of our family: Caitlyn Fletcher Cater. She was born this morning and my sister was an absolute rock star. NO DRUGS, people. NO EPIDURAL. She is amazing. And isn't this little girl beautiful.

Disney Photos

2011-07-26T11:42:00.001-05:00

Don't get too excited. I only took a handful of photos. It was really effing hot and I didn't have the energy to wrestle my phone out of my purse every five seconds. (Special shout out to Deuce for peeing on my park purse. Didn't discover that he had "expressed" his dospleasure in being left until we were in the Magic Kindgom boiling ourselves. That smelled terrific, Deuce. You little bastard.)

So here are our piss-soaked memories.

They've given the Haunted Mansion a facelift. Am pretty sure this is one of my distant relatives.

The man. The myth. The Aggie.

Andy Griffith at Hollywood Studios. For Madge.

Even the Benihana was all about the Mouse.

Nice. My bra straps are totally showing. Guess I was just trying to keep up with all the trailor park and Euro trash.

Did you know Disney now scans your finger print to ID you? Creepuh!

Well that is literally every picture I took. Sorry, mama.

Birthday Bling

2011-07-07T17:18:00.001-05:00

Got a HUGE surprise in the mail today! My sweet sisters sent me THIS!!!!!

Swoon!

I know this doesn't come as much of a shock to a lot of people, but actually have never owned purse like this -- something so nice.

For I am HARD on bags. I drop them. Overfill them. Dump an entire smoothie into them.

I'm so proud of this -- my first "big girl purse" -- that I could practically burst. And a bit scared to use it. It's only a matter of time before a lipgloss or pen explodes in it. Or a dog tries to claim it. Or I drunkenly drop it in the toilet.

So I'm hugging it and wishing it luck.

Because I love it too much NOT to use it!

Thanks Kiki and Cici!

Boston Terrorists

2011-07-05T18:27:00.001-05:00

This is my boy friend, Pokey. He might look like a Boston terrier bit he's really so much more than that... Snuggly wuggly pookie wookie, chuld's playmate, drunken frat boy wanting to fight.

I snapped this picture as he and the husband were figuring out I was two-timing hussy and had been seeing Pokey on the side.

Pokey is all: "What. The. Hell?"

Wish you could see my husband's face. It was all: "Women. Can't live with 'em and can't live with out 'em... Because Texas is a 50/50 state and if that bitch goes she's taking half of everything... Even your
Mickey Mantle rookie card."

Bros before hos, Pokey.

-- Post From My iPhone

Vroom Vroom

2011-06-28T11:48:00.002-05:00

Shot this out the window of the truck while the husband was driving on the Loop 610 South in Houston.

It caught my eye because you just don't see a black, Masonic biker everyday.

The former journalist in me really wanted to find out his story. What transpired to bring all three of those things together?

Since the husband has a strict policy forbiding me from flagging down Hells Angels, I was forced to invent my own back story:

His name Franklin but his friends call him Frank. His grandpa Carl Sr. was a Mason. Carl Sr. raised Frank after a tragic motorcycle accident claimed the lives of his mother and father, Gloria and Carl Jr. After a hitch in the Air Force that landed him Da Nang, Frank came home and helped his grandpa run the family barbecue shack in the heart of Houston's Third Ward. Carl Sr. never asked Frank about Vietnam and Frank never offered any details, but the old man knew is grandson was haunted. One night Frank tore the couch in their little three room home behind the barbecue place apart because of fitful dreams. That's when Carl Sr. began bringing Frank to the lodge. Partly to keep an eye on the young man, partly in hopes of finding the boy direction. It was hard at first but the rest fell into place over time. Eventually, Frank faced his demons and found comfort in the sacred traditions. He even started riding again -- something he hadn't done since losing his parents.

---

Photo shot with iPhone and edited with Instagram app.

My Weekend in Pictures

2011-06-20T22:44:00.001-05:00

Me and my beautiful sister.

My sister's sister-in-law's wedding.

And a sweet pug.

-- Post From My iPhone

Father's Day

2011-06-16T13:48:00.005-05:00

In honor of Father's Day, allow me to present the second part of my Instagram series.

I don't say this often enough, but Daddy, you were a really good father. Like Bill Cosby as Cliff Huxtable good. Growing up with you was fun. And it's only now that I'm older and can see kids around me who crappy dads that I can fully appreciate how awesome you were.

Also, there are certain life lessons that you bestowed on me that have served me well. Like being able to shoot a gun, change a tire and jump hay bails. (Inside family joke: Once, whilst running across a line of hay bails and screaming "Girls this is how you do it" Daddy wiped out hard, wedging himself upside down between bails. A tractor may or may not have necessitated his rescue.)

My dad taught me to be an independent women, insisted I get an education and provided seemingly endless ATM services, even after I an "adult." You guys are fucking awesome parents. And I'm really sorry about that particularly bad period in my life from age 18 to 21. Yowza! I was a total douchebag and I'm sorry. Thank you for not killing me and selling me for spare parts.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy. I love you more than you will ever know.

I call this one "Bearing of the Fruit."

There are many traits I inherited from you -- bad joints, crappy teeth, kidney stones. And my sense of humor/bullshit.

Ahh, this is my favorite. I call it: "I Should Have Used A Condom."

What's this? Married? No longer on your payroll? Nah. I'm the leech that never goes away.

All photos were edited with Instagram's Earlybird filter.

Fur

2011-06-15T09:42:00.003-05:00

Have you heard of Instagram? Its awesome. If you have an iPhone go forth and get this ap. It is easy to use and does beautiful stuff with your photos. Oh, and did I mention it is free? FREE.

This series of photos, titled "Fur," have the 'Nashville' filter applied to them.

This Is A Story About Chocolate Pie

2011-04-26T16:09:00.004-05:00

Holidays were notorious on my father's side of the family. They weren't rich people, we didn't get extravagant gifts, but we did do one thing well: Eat.

Three or four times a year, my grandparent's kitchen table turned into a giant buffet style serving station filled with side dishes. The counter by the sink transformed into a makeshift drink stand. The main protein – turkey on Thanksgiving and Christmas, barbecue on the 4^th of July – rested on the stovetop. Someone would hand out plastic plates and utensils as we entered the kitchen and the free-for-all would begin.

There we all were, a tangle of arms and legs. Usually there were about 30 of us -- My grandmother and grandfather, five children and spouses and 13 grandchildren, all attacking a table the size of door. And that didn't count any interlopers or hangers-ons would we would bring with us. Friends and distant cousins were apt to show up.

As was our Great Uncle Dick, who I cannot remember ever missing a meal at my grandmother's after his wife, Aunt Lola died. My grandmother didn't let anyone go with a plate of food.

We'd all get our food, then find a spot – floor for kids, furniture for adults – and we'd eat, talk and laugh. Then someone would spill something. At least three people would get wet. There'd be a major clean up and then we'd all return to eating, talking and laughing.

And when were finished? ROUND TWO! The infamous desert table, perhaps the most sacred and wonderful part of Wilson family meals.

It was just as big as the kitchen table, only it held cakes, pies and any other form of treat my grandmother would whip up. We all had our favorites and our requests. And MawMaw was always willing to accommodate.

For me, it was her chocolate pie.

It would be unfair to say that no one help MawMaw with the cooking. My daddy is a master pie-maker and he usually would cart over several deserts each year. But there was just something special about the way MawMaw made things. They tasted better. Was it some secret ingredient? The love, perhaps? Maybe it was her oven. I don't know why, but MawMaw's just tasted special. After you've had that, all other variations fail to compare.

It's been more than a handful of years since I had MawMaw's pie. But I can still remember how it tasted and how those holidays felt surrounded by family. Yesterday afternoon, my husband and I went for an early dinner at a local, famed barbecue place. After we ate our delicious meal, I eyed the counter where a series of very pretty pies seemed to call to me. We ordered and egg custard for me – another of my grandmother's specialties – and a classic chocolate pie for my husband. The custard was amazingly good, but not at all like what I was used.

Without really thinking, I reached over and forked bite of the chocolate pie. We were talking about something in the news. Something significant, but now I can't remember what. The instant that pie touched my tongue my chest became heavy and my throat seemed to close for a moment. Emotion ran through my body and I – without explanation – burst into tears.

If you had put a gun to my head and asked me who made that pie: I would have there is no question, that's MawMaw's.

But MawMaw's been gone for nearly two years.

In that one bite I began remembering things that hadn't crossed my mind in years. Not all of the memories are pleasant. Some are devastating and filled with loss. A lot of them are flashes of the person I used to be – a child filled with innocence and fearlessness. And there are countless flashes of my sisters and cousins playing in the yard, hiding Easter eggs, picking up pecans, swinging from the large oak tree, climbing the hill behind the shed and shooting fireworks at bikers (oops).

We are not that different from our childhood selves, yet we are further apart then we'd like to admit. I have a wonderful life and an amazing husband and I wouldn't trade today for then. But if I had the opportunity to sit at that kitchen table again, drinking coffee and playing cards with my grandparents, I would take it.

And I would ask MawMaw exactly what did she put in that pie.

---

Special thanks to my Aunt Teri for this little gem. In case you are wondering, I'm the fat one with the mullet.

Six Years

2011-03-19T20:39:00.001-05:00

Today is our sixth wedding anniversary.

I'd like to think I'm more mature than this, but apparently I'm not. So allow me to take this opportunity to tell all those who didn't think we'd last to suck it.

Sorry. It's been a bad week for out family. We are splitting our anniversary weekend at a hotel and the pediatric ward of a west Texas hospital. Our precious, 8 week old niece is fighting pneumonia. Is it where we'd have chosen to vacation? Nope. But it's where we need and want to be.

Plus. There is this: the husband and his nephew clone. Playing Wii.

So much love. Y'all pray for our family.

-- Post From My iPhone

Things I Actually Said Today

2011-02-20T21:42:00.001-06:00

The husband and I are having one of those days when nothing bad happens but nothing really goes right either. One of those days when everything you say comes out wrong. We're just off.

We had an argument today that ended with these words spilling forth from my lips: "I still don't understand why we are not at Hooters right now!"

I mean, damn it people. This spat is keeping us from Hooters. Unacceptable.

Then the dogs were just on a tear. Why would they pee in the yard when there's a freshly mopped floor they could go on instead?!?

Me: "Damn it, Ripken. GO. OUT. THE. DOGGY DOOR! You're a dog and it's a doggy door! You are literallly made for each other."

Hubs (from his upstairs office): "Are you arguing with the dog?"

Seriously. Why are we not at Hooters?

-- Post From My iPhone

Monster

2011-02-14T11:05:00.003-06:00

There's the wild dog that's been terrorizing our neighborhood.

He murders rabbits and squirrels, rips flowers from their beds and tears yards apart, and rips open bags of garbage. But no one ever sees him doing it. Our street just wakes each morning to a swath of destruction, never knowing the face our tormentor. Its being attacked by a ghost, there's tangible proof of his existence.

That dingo is a fucking ninja.

This morning, just as the sunlight broke through treetops on our once safe, sleepy street, my husband spotted the purveyor of destruction. He was taking out bags of garbage when he heard the distinctive sound of rustling from our neighbor's home a few doors down. It was the sound of garbage being shredded by an animal.

Carefully, he investigated. Coyotes are dangerous, dirty creatures. We're lucky our tormentor hadn't killed anyone's pets or attacked a child. A housecat would be a tasty hors d'oeuvres.

Except its totally not a coyote that hubs has happened upon. It’s a tiny little black and white cat named Gertrude.

Of course it is.

Evil, I has it, fucker.

It is only a matter of time before she is figured out and our home is stormed by an angry mob.

Happy Holidays

2010-12-23T12:56:00.002-06:00

So this year? Kind of sucked it.

Here's to 2011 not blowing like Hurricane Katrina.

May you all be safe, happy and with someone you love this holiday season.

Also, yay baby Jesus!

Cribz Lidz

2010-12-07T21:14:00.001-06:00

My sister told me today that my 22 month old nephew has learned how to climb out of his crib and was lamenting that the days of letting him "cry it out" where over because he'd just wait til she left the room then let himself out.

So I asked her why she didn't just get a crib lid and keep that little chicken in the coop.

And get this, Internet! She says they don't make crib lids.

What?!?! No one has thought of this? Really? Do I have to do everything myself? Apparently so.

And that is the story of how I invented Cribz Lidz TM (patent pending.)

A little while later I was telling my husband about my new awesome invention.

"It'll work like snapping the top on a Tupperware container," I said. "Only it'll be made from plastic mesh shaped like chicken wire so it breathes."

"Wow. Just. Wow," he said.

"Right! How has no one thought of this!" I said.

Long pause.

"Maybe we shouldn't have children afterall."

-- Post From My iPhone

Too Long To Tweet

2010-11-25T00:05:00.001-06:00

The sound of a grown man giggling just woke me up. At first, I thought we were being robbed by the silliest thief ever. Then it hits me that this is my husband. Giggling. On the phone. In the middle of the night. In his office.

After nearly six years of marriage, THIS is a first. So I scream up to him: What the hell are you doing?!

Here he comes down the stairs, phone pressed to his ear, giggling.

It's totally dark, but he's trying to mouth to me someone's name.
That didn't really work out for him so finally -- after several attempts to interup the caller -- manages to put them on hold long enough to explain himself.

Everything is fine. He's just been drunk dialed by a childhood friend named *Spring* who found him on Facebook. It's cool, go on back to sleep, no biggie. They haven't spoken since they were 10 years old.

Okay, whatev. Wrangle that giggling in, I kid. Then because I am both a crazy person and somewhat jealous at times it occurs to me to psycho stalk *Spring* on Facebook from my iPhone. Just call me Sherlock Effing Holmes.

That's when I discover that *Spring* is two things: single and pretty.

Of course she is! The ugly, lesbian from second grade isn't trying to reconnect!

Luckily this isn't an issue as I trust my husband completely. Any feelings of jealousy are my own making. He is as loyal and faithful as they come. Also I easedropped for five minutes while he gushed over how I was the most awesome spouse and his best friend. It made my heart flutter.

As I settled back in for the night, my heart full of love for my husband, the sound of grown man giggles permiated yet again through the house.

To remind him of my feelings, I sent him the following text message:

"Enjoy your conversation, but remember two things 1) I am extremely comfortable with guns and 2) I have access to places corpse sniffing dogs cannot access."

He hung up 30 seconds later.

And that, my friends, is true, grownup love.

-- Post From My iPhone

Nov. 13 and 14 Queen B Designs will be at the Christmas City Gift Show in Biloxi, MS!

2010-10-08T13:16:00.004-05:00

And you say I never visit!

Please, please, please come and see us -- Queen B Designs -- Nov. 13 and 14 at the Mississippi Coast Coliseum Convention Center!

Christmas City is so much more than handcrafted arts and crafts by the most skilled artists in the region. You'll marvel at aisle after aisle of gift ideas, home decor, jewelry and accessories, scrapbooking supplies, handmade heirlooms, fashions for children and adults, framed art, fragrances, kitchenware...Click on the List of Vendors for a complete look at all our offerings.
The 2-day event draws over 15,000 visitors to the newly expanded Coast Coliseum Convention Center. Vendors for the show sign up months in advance for a spot to showcase their gifts, foods and art. With the anticipation of a “Grand Opening Ribbon Cutting” at its new location, the show is expected to be a complete sellout.

Now in its 27th year, Christmas City Gift Show’s 250+ vendor space will be spread over an 88,000 sq. ft. area. Shoppers will appreciate the variety of vendors, concessions, a Christmas movie area, and plenty of activities for the children, sponsored by Lynn Meadows Discovery Center. Photos with Santa and/or Scrooge (sponsored by Quota International) will also be available.

Because of its unique offerings and estimated half-million dollar economic impact to the MS Gulf Coast, it has been recognized by the Southeast Tourism Society as one of the top ten events in the Southeast. Over $10,000 of the proceeds from Christmas City Gift Show 2008 were distributed by Cross2Success Ministries, whose mission assists MS Gulf Coast charities.

Here's the website: http://www.christmascitygiftshow.com/

Here's the brochure: http://www.christmascitygiftshow.com/CCitybrochure_2010.pdf

Here's my desperate plea: We want to see YOU -- our friends, family and supporters. This might be the only time during the season we get to come to Mississippi. We are so excited to be returning home for an event and cannot wait to see each of you there. So come on down to the coast, chat us up, buy some things and have a nice festive time!

And remember, you're not only getting one-a-kind, handmade gifts, but you're also helping starving orphans. Okay, I'm not sure about orphans, but you are helping a good cause -- Cross2Success Ministries. And I'm pretty sure they don't let parentless children go hungry. So maybe you are helping orphans. Either way it doesn't matter because Karma is a good thing. You get back what you put out there. So don't be an Ebenezer. Come to the Christmas City Gift Show and show some love.

My Brother-In-Law Is Kind of Awesome

2010-09-08T08:34:00.001-05:00

C is for cookie, that's good enough for me
C is for cookie, that's good enough for me
C is for cookie, that's good enough for me
Oh, cookie, cookie, cookie starts with C

Also. This man already has a master's degree and is working on his PhD in chemistry. He's going to be a rocket scientist. For real, y'all.

Queen B Designs

2010-09-02T21:43:00.001-05:00

Hey, y'all!

So HUGE news over here. We (Madge, my Mama and myself) have officially launched Queen B Designs!

Queen B Designs started as a flicker of a dream in the head of a little, oddball, fuzzy-haired fat girl more than 25 years ago. And over the last year has grown from three folding tables in my garage and the support of my husband and BFF into a REAL THING.

All those reams of paper I used up and colored pencils I ground into stumps weren't wasted. Nor were all those art sets, Pawpaw bought me that I burned through. And I suppose all those many many days my Nene spent teaching me to sew and allowing me to play in her fabric were more than just a way to entertain a restless little girl. Mawmaw's time answering all those quilting questions were well spent.

I don't know how I got so lucky in my life to be surrounded by a family who supported and enriched me creatively. But I am thankful and grateful nonetheless.

So if y'all have time, go and check out the fruits if our labor. It's a work in progress, kind of like Madge, Mama and me.

http://queen-b-designs.com

Follow us on Twitter: @queenbdesigns

Friend us on Facebook!

-- Post From My iPhone